The Secret Admirer
by Predec2
Summary: Sequel to "Going, Going, Gone." Justin finds himself the recipient of surprise gifts. But how welcome are they?
1. Chapter 1: The Mystery Begins

SECRET ADMIRER

Justin couldn't help smiling as he meticulously scrutinized his latest work. He had asked Brian last night to wake him when the ad exec got ready for work this morning so he could come down to the studio and get an early start on his painting. Of course, he had been delayed due to an extended lovemaking session with Brian in their bed and in the shower before he left for Kinnetik. _Not that I'm complaining, although my ass might be sore for a week,_ he thought, grinning.

Brian and Justin had been living at the Blackbird Studios district now for almost a year. Their living quarters, which had been converted from an old industrial warehouse a few years ago, was perched above Justin's new art gallery_._ At the time the work space was being renovated to Justin's specifications, Brian had sarcastically nicknamed his gallery _Sunshine Studios_ and the name had somehow stuck, even though Justin thought it was a pretty dorky name. It certainly didn't have the finesse of a name like _Kinnetik_, but Justin didn't particularly mind.

In fact, Justin had to admit he had very little to complain about at all right now. After going their separate ways for a while, they had finally realized how much they loved each other and wanted to be together. Brian had decided to sell his loft and move with Justin to a place that would signify a new beginning for their life together. He knew how much Justin would love the idea of having a studio at his fingertips, and Justin had fallen in love with the ambience of the quaint, historic neighborhood. The loft was also a shorter commute into Kinnetik, which allowed Brian to indulge in spending more time at home with his partner.

To Justin's surprise, too, Brian had been making more of a conscious effort to verbally let the blond know how much he loved him. He normally only said the "three little words" during or after they made love (and yes, by now it was not just having sex and fucking, it was actually making love). But there were also the occasional moments snuggled in front of the wood fire on the thick, plush oval rug or lying together, legs tangled, on the couch watching an old movie where Brian felt comfortable enough to express his love aloud to Justin. Yes, Justin had never felt happier. And although Brian would hate the description, the older man had actually mellowed out during the past year. He was still the fiery, "think outside the box" ad exec at work, and the smug, cavalier businessman at Babylon, but he seldom felt the need to hunt for a new trick or even ingest all the drug crap he previously felt he needed to rely on. And once he and Justin had moved to their new home, he had made good on his promise to never bring a trick home. It made Justin feel secure to know that he did not have to worry about their being "company" at home unexpectedly when he arrived. For Justin and Brian, their love had not only remained exciting, but had actually grown more intense as it continued to deepen.

Justin's concentration just then was diverted as he heard a knock on the studio door. Turning toward the glass window front, he observed a uniformed delivery man standing there.

"Yes?" Justin was frequently shipping paintings all over the country, and at time even throughout the world, and was constantly accepting shipments either for the gallery or for Kinnetik, so he was very familiar with most of the delivery personnel in the neighborhood. This man, however, was a stranger to him. Although he wore a dark brown delivery uniform with a matching cap, he wore no insignia on either. Justin made a mental note of that as he was asked to sign his name on an old-fashioned clipboard. _Odd, _he thought, n_ormally they have me sign electronically._

That observation slipped his mind as he turned his attention to the package. It was in a shipping box about 14 inches square. Oddly enough, too, only Justin's name and address of the gallery was on the shipping label; there was no return address.

Very curious now, Justin toted the delivery over to a nearby work table. Picking up a box cutter, he slid open the shipping box and peered inside. Nestled in gold-colored shreds of paper was a fancy, gold foil box with the name _Delafee_ written in elaborate, raised maroon script on the top. The name was unfamiliar to the young artist, but he appreciated the elegant writing and fabric-covered box with the matching top. Lifting the top, his sense of smell was immediately assaulted by a wonderful aroma. He smiled. He didn't have to open one of the individual, foil-wrapped packages to know there were chocolates inside. The pungent smell was instantly recognizable. Eagerly opening up one of the candies, he popped one in his mouth. Justin had always had a weakness for chocolates, but he had never tasted anything so mouth-watering in his life. _Well, not after Brian, anyway,_ he smirked. He rolled the candy around on his tongue to prolong the unbelievable texture and taste before finally swallowing it.

Wow! Now THIS was chocolate! The smooth consistency and delicate, creamy filling was unbelievable. Biting into another one, he picked up the box nestled inside to see if there was a return card of some type. It was then he noticed a small, white linen envelope underneath the box of candy. Placing the candy aside rather reluctantly, he curiously opened the envelope to read the message. It was typed in the same elegant script as the name of the candy company. It simply read: **These chocolates could never be as delicious as you. I can't wait to get a taste for myself. **The card was simply signed "**From your secret admirer.**"

Justin stood at the work table, rereading the card with knitted brows. _Could these be from Brian? _Before they moved here together, he would have laughed immediately at the idea of Brian ever doing anything like this. But that was before Brian had felt threatened by Lane Prescott, who had wined and dined the artist fervently a year ago before finally giving up after Justin had made it clear to him that he loved Brian. In fact, during that time Brian had actually gifted Justin with some customized white chocolate Hershey kisses and a teddy bear in an attempt to romance his lover. So Justin couldn't immediately dismiss the idea outright.

"Hey, baby! How's it going down here at the hottest art studio in town?" A blur of color and fake fur rushed through the front door.

Justin turned one of his trademark smiles on his flamboyant friend. "Emmett! Hi. I forgot we were meeting for lunch today." As he hugged the taller man, he looked over Em's shoulder at the time. "Shit! I didn't realize it was after 11:00 already. I was so busy with the painting I'm working on the morning has just flown by."

Emmett looked at the blond skeptically. "You sure a little _extracurricular activity_ didn't have a bearing on that, sweetie?" Justin's flushed face and rather embarrassed smile confirmed the man's suspicions. "Ah, I thought so….." His comment was interrupted as he suddenly noticed the open gold foil box sitting near Justin on the work table.

Stunned, Emmett stammered, "Baby, do you KNOW what those are?" He pointed toward the box, now missing two pieces of chocolate.

"Em, that's not a real difficult question, is it?" He smiled indulgently at his friend. "They're called CHOCOLATES. And they're REALLY good chocolates, by the way. Have one." He picked up a randomly-selected triangular-shaped candy and handed it to the other man.

"I KNOW they're chocolates, Sweetie," Emmett advised him, as he enthusiastically opened the candy and popped it into his mouth, swirling it around his tongue with a loud _ahh._ "But did you see the brand name? Do you know what those are or what they cost? George told me about them one day when I saw a box of them in his library at the house."

At Justin's puzzled shake of his head, Emmett explained. "_Delafee_ chocolates are made with the finest cocoa beans and contain flakes of _24-carat gold_ in them. George told me they cost $508.00 a POUND," he finished, sounding remarkably like a professor instructing his students.

Justin's mouth hung open. "$508.00 a POUND? You're kidding me, right?" He knew Brian could be very generous with his friends and his son, but Justin couldn't imagine his partner spending THAT kind of money on candy.

"No," Emmett confirmed with a shake of his head. "You heard me right. Either you were REALLY good at your _extra-curricular activity _this morning, or Brian was REALLY bad." Smiling and winking at his friend, he added, "Better put those in a cool spot. You certainly wouldn't want them to melt, unless you need to convert some of them into cash. I heard gold's going for well over $1,300 an ounce nowadays."

Justin continued to stare amazed at the box. $508.00 a POUND? He still couldn't get over that. Scooping up the box and lid, he placed the candy inside the refrigerator (after he picked up two more pieces and placed them gingerly in his pants pocket). As he motioned for Em to follow him out the door for lunch, he resolved himself to ask his partner about the mysterious package he received that morning.


	2. Chapter 2: More Questions Than Answers

"Sunshine? Where's my little artiste?" Brian shrugged out of his tie the moment he opened the loft door, then rushed to dispose of the rest of his suit and pants.

"I'm in the kitchen, Brian," Justin answered, thinking, _some things never change. First thing he does when he gets home is take off his clothes_, he smirked_._ Moments later, a shiver ran down his spine as his partner, dressed only in his briefs now, sensuously snaked his long arms around his lover's waist and pulled him back into a passionate kiss.

"Mmmm…..What smells so good? Besides you, that is," he deadpanned as he and Justin came up for air, both panting breathlessly.

Justin smiled back. "Chicken teriyaki. Should be ready in about 10 minutes…..that is, if you quit _distracting_ me, old man." Brian jumped adroitly to dodge the blond's hand that was about to slap his ass.

"_Old man? _That will cost you later, twat."

Justin winked. "I'm counting on it. Now let me finish dinner." Brian gave his partner a chaste peck on the cheek. "Yes, Dear," he replied in falsetto. Walking back to the couch, he picked up the paper to peruse while Justin finished fixing dinner in the wok set up on the stove.

"By the way, Brian, I almost forgot to ask you. Did you arrange for a delivery to be made today?"

Brian peered from over the top of the paper. "What type of delivery, Sunshine? For Kinnetik?"

"No. A delivery here to the studio. A very _expensive_ delivery, I might add. Did you have anything to do with that, Mr. Kinney?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "You're going to have to be more specific than that, Justin. Exactly what kind of delivery was it? Was there a hustler on your doorstep this morning? If so, that was misdirected. It was supposed to be delivered to ME."

"Very funny, Brian. Are you telling me the candy wasn't your idea?" If Brian was kidding, he was doing a very convincing job of it, Justin thought.

"Candy? Now why would I have something that is shit full of carbs like that delivered here? I'd have to be at the gym for a week straight, or at least spend the week in bed fucking you non-stop. Although that wouldn't exactly be the worse punishment I could think of." Brian's eyebrows rose and he leered suggestively at his partner, making Justin blush momentarily. But when his lover hesitated, his curiosity intensified.

"Well," Justin stammered. He wasn't sure just how much to say about the mysterious delivery. He knew Brian. If he told the man there was a card with the candy that read, "_From your secret admirer,"_ and Brian hadn't sent it to him, he was NOT going to be pleased. How much should he say to him? For better or worse, he chose the lesser of two evils.

"Yes?" Brian continued to stare at Justin, waiting for an answer.

"Well," Justin repeated. "A delivery came this morning just before 11:00, when Emmett arrived to go to lunch with me. There was a box of fancy-looking chocolates inside, and they tasted FANTASTIC. Emmett then told me that he recognized the brand name as one George had told him about. Said they were made with real flecks of 24-carat gold and cost $508.00 a POUND." Justin looked closely at Brian for his reaction.

Brian blinked his eyes as if he were trying to clear his brain. Surely he hadn't heard Justin right. "Did you say $508.00 a POUND? Holy shit," he exclaimed when Justin nodded affirmatively. "I've never heard of chocolates being that fucking expensive. Where did they come from?" He looked intently at the artist. His curiosity was definitely piqued now, along with another feeling he refused to acknowledge. One that he always seemed to get whenever someone else paid special attention to his partner.

"That's what I'D like to know," Justin replied, averting his eyes somewhat. Again he debated. _Should I tell Brian about the card? What good would it do if I did? It would only make things worse. _Aloud, he added, "There wasn't a return address on the box, only my name and the studio's address. There wasn't any sender's address anywhere." _Well, at least that PART was the truth._ "I figured YOU had sent them for some reason."

"Sunshine, I confess that in times of rare, _extreme_ insanity I may have done something similar to that," Brian admitted grudgingly. He did not even want to think about last year when he feared he was about to lose the man he loved so much to that arrogant man, Lane Prescott. "But I prefer to see my gold in a Rolex, not EAT it inside some fucking candy."

"Oh. Well, I really didn't think it was too likely, I guess. Maybe it was a well-to-do studio patron who was thanking me for the artwork?" Justin really didn't believe that, however. Not after he saw what the accompanying card had said. By now, though, he just preferred to try and forget about it, and concentrate, instead, on the almost naked man lounging on his couch that consistently made his heart beat faster and his senses go into overload at the sight of him.

"That would be one hell of a thank you, Sunshine." Brian began to rack his brain for an answer, before he was quickly sidetracked by the sight of his lover strolling over languidly to straddle his legs over the older man's thighs. "Forget about the dessert, Brian," he purred. "I want to start on the appetizer first." As Justin slowly pulled the briefs down Brian's long legs, all thoughts about the outrageously-priced chocolates in the refrigerator were quickly forgotten for the rest of the evening.

* * *

_The Next Day_

"Sunshine! How nice to see you, baby! Come and give me a big hug!"

"Now, Deb, I remember the killer hug Michael said you gave him when he returned from Portland. I think he called it the "Venus Flytrap" hug," he joked. "Go easy on me, okay?" Smiling, he returned the hug affectionately while the redhead ruffled his blond hair.

"It's so GOOD to see you, Sunshine. Are you eating enough? Is that asshole treating you right?" She stood back to studiously scrutinize one of her surrogate sons.

"Yes, Deb, Brian's treating me just fine. Don't worry," he reassured her. "I was in the area today to pick up some supplies, and thought I'd just stop in for a minute to say hello. I miss you and the other guys, now that Brian and I live farther away. But the art studio's doing great, and I LOVE the new loft. It's so nice to have my studio right downstairs and the neighborhood's great. And Brian's commute is shorter, so we can spend more time together now." He blushed slightly at the thought of just what type of _activities_ Brian and he were participating in with their extra time. _Well, we're both certainly getting a workout._

"Well, you tell that man I'm keeping tabs on him to make sure he treats you right, Sunshine." She looked him over closely. "Still doesn't appear he's feeding you enough, though. Kiki!" Deb shouted to the tall, dark-haired waitress standing behind the counter. "Get Sunshine here a triple decker burger, large onion rings, and a large Chocolate shake – on me!"

"Deb, I'm fine – you don't have to do that," he began.

"Don't you fucking start with me, Sunshine! You're going to eat all of it, or I'm going to arrange for a feeding tube to be placed in a particularly sensitive part of your anatomy." She wagged a gaudily-colored fingernail at him. "You got it?

Justin couldn't help laughing. God, he loved this woman. "I got it, Deb," he said penitently, sitting down at one of the counter chairs to await his "feast."

Justin had to admit. The burger tasted great. He always thought the hamburgers the diner served with the toasted buns could not be beat. He had missed this special kind of "cuisine." He was just about to dig into another onion ring when he heard his name called by the front door.

"Justin Taylor?" The man calling his name was tall, with graying, dark brown hair. He wore a casual pair of navy Dockers and a beige polo shirt. In his hand was a small, white delivery envelope about 9 inches long.

"That's me," Justin answered, a little puzzled to hear his name called here at the diner. He no longer worked at the diner since he and Brian had moved to Lawrenceville about a year ago.

"This is for you," the man replied, handing Justin the small package. He promptly turned around and headed out the door before Justin could utter another word.

Looking at the package, Justin again noticed no return address on the package, only his name with no delivery address. _How did the man know I was here?_ He felt Debbie's eyes on him curiously as he ripped open the Mylar packaging and glanced inside at the hard, rectangular-shaped, Robin's egg blue box insulated inside between some bubble wrap. The name _Tiffany's_ was inscribed tastefully in small letters at the lower right-hand corner.

With slightly shaking hands, he slowly opened up the hinged lid of the box and looked inside. Strapped within the box was a flexible, platinum colored bracelet composed of two intertwining shaped braids. He looked inside the package and the box, but did not find a card this time.

"Ooh. Sunshine. Shit! That is gorgeous! Where did it come from, honey?" Debbie hadn't seen anything so beautiful since Emmett had generously bought her a diamond bracelet several years ago from George's estate money.

Justin swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't know, Deb," he replied, concerned. He picked the bracelet up to study it more closely, and turned it over. That was when he realized there was an inscription on the back of the bracelet:

It said, "_Two hearts and two bodies that will soon be united as one. Your secret admirer"_

Justin closed his eyes briefly. _This was starting to get a little spooky._ First the expensive chocolates yesterday, now this bracelet from _Tiffany's._ He was convinced Brian was not behind these gifts. But who? These gifts were EXPENSIVE in the extreme. The idea they were from some art buyer didn't seem too likely. After all, they were already paying thousands of dollars for one of Justin's paintings as it is.

And while Justin had certainly had his share of admirers over the last several years, most of them were just ordinary working-class men from the Pitts, hardly the types who could afford to purchase gifts of this magnitude. Besides, Justin hadn't even so much as flirted with another man since Brian had made good on his promise to share his bed only with him. With Brian's increasing devotion to his partner, Justin hadn't felt any need to seek out any other man's affections, nor was he interested in doing so.

Not really knowing what to do with the bracelet, he finished up his meal and quickly bade Debbie goodbye. He finally stuffed the box inside his jacket pocket as he walked out of the diner. Looking around a little self-consciously, he did not notice anything in particular out of the ordinary, or anyone looking at him differently. Nevertheless, he walked briskly up the street to catch the bus back to the Blackbird Studios loft, anxiously anticipating Brian's return and the loving, secure feel of his partner's arms around him.

* * *

"Did you have the package delivered today as I instructed you?" The black-haired, green-eyed man looked up as his assistant approached his office.

"Yes, sir," the man assured his superior. "The detective was able to follow Mr. Taylor to the Liberty Diner. He arranged for the courier to deliver the package there later today. Mr. Taylor then took the package with him on the bus back to his living quarters."

The man nodded approvingly. "Good. You know what to do tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir. It will be done as you had requested." Nodding respectively, the assistant left his superior's office.

The black-haired man smiled. _Soon, Angel. Soon._

_._


	3. Chapter 3: Decisions and a New Delivery

Justin sat on the sofa inside the studio. He had been trying to paint ever since he got back from visiting Debbie at the diner, but the events of the last two days had unnerved him. He was also debating whether or not he should tell Brian about this latest gift. His partner hadn't pressed him too much about the chocolates, but telling him about the bracelet would likely set off a firestorm. Brian Kinney in full protective mode was a definite force to be reckoned with.

"Sunshine? Are you downstairs?" He looked up fondly as the subject of his thoughts peered down at him from the loft balcony.

"There's my little artiste," Brian drawled. "Why don't you come up here for a little creative inspiration?" Justin laughed as the brunet smiled, tongue in cheek, and raised his eyebrows in a not-so-subtle invitation.

"I don't know…..I've drawn you so many times. Might need to find my inspiration elsewhere….." The blond had to duck suddenly as a pair of black Armani briefs was lobbed from above. "On second thought, I'll be right up," he answered, taking the steps two at a time.

* * *

Brian absentmindedly stroked Justin's blond hair as his partner lay with his head snuggled on Brian's chest, both sated after an exhaustive round of "inspiration." Justin's previous anxiety had given way to a calm, sleepy contentment with his lover's arms encircling him protectively. He knew he needed to discuss with Brian what had occurred today; however, he just couldn't make himself broach the subject while Brian continued to tenderly cradle him. The brunet's loving caresses gradually ceased as Justin heard Brian's breathing even out and he slowly fell into a drowsy state, finally succumbing to a deep slumber. _How I love this man,_ Justin thought, just before he, too, fell into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Justin was feeling much better the next day. His fears from the day before had diminished as he stood inside the art studio, enjoying the bright sunshine that poured through the enormous windows his work space featured, courtesy of the building's previous life as a warehouse. It was one of the aspects of the studio that he particularly loved; it provided him with just the right amount of light to paint with. The artist's strokes were firm and dramatic as he worked on a new creation inspired once again by his partner. He had to smile to himself; despite Justin's protestations to the contrary, it never failed to amaze him how being with Brian could conjure up the most provocative ideas.

When Justin was excited about transferring a dream onto his canvas, it felt almost as if he were in a trance. He, therefore, failed to notice when a young boy on a bicycle stopped in front of the adjacent loft door to drop off a fairly large basket wrapped in navy-colored tissue paper and tied with a large, silver bow. As he was instructed to do, the boy stopped briefly just long enough to press the door buzzer before he hopped back on his bicycle and rode off down the street.

Justin's concentration was broken upon hearing the buzzer. _It's not time for the mailman yet,_ he thought absurdly, realizing the mailman never signaled when he dropped off the mail, anyway. Putting down his paintbrush on the easel gingerly, he walked out into the hallway that separated his studio from he and Brian's living quarters. Opening the entrance door, his felt a cold chill as he noticed another package had been delivered. Unlike the other two occasions, this time he didn't even see who had delivered it. Looking uneasily up and down the street, he did not observe anyone or anything that looked peculiar. He nervously picked up the tissue-wrapped bundle, noticing by the feel that the object was a basket of some type.

Placing it onto a tall, square-shaped table situated by his easel, he carefully removed the large, silver bow off the top of the package and slowly tore away the navy tissue paper. He had surmised correctly that it was a rather flat, rectangular-shaped basket. Studying the contents, he realized the container was filled with approximately two dozen kinds of colored tubes containing art paints of various hues; studying the names, however, he noticed one important difference from the ones he would normally use in his work. All of these paints were scented and described as being edible. He couldn't help rolling his eyes somewhat as he read off some of the names: _Cockolate Dream, Vanilla Spice & Vice, Scrumptious Strawberry, Ecru Ecstasy, (Great Balls of) Fire Engine Red, and Yummy Yellow. _If he hadn't been so concerned about whom his secret admirer was, he would have found it humorous.

But any thought of smiling at the ridiculous names vanished as he pulled out the small, white envelope tucked inside the basket. Only Justin's name was written on the front. His hands shook slightly as he pulled out the card to read it

_I can't wait to rub these paints all over your delicious body and lick them off, one inch at a time. Your secret admirer._

Justin shivered. This was starting to get very personal now. He could almost dismiss the chocolates and bracelet as tokens of admiration, albeit very EXPENSIVE tokens. However, somehow this more intimate, less expensive gift rattled him more. It was as if the person was invading his own protective bubble. It was actually getting sort of creepy.

Carrying the basket and its contents over to the garbage can, he took the top off, turned the container upside down and dumped all of the tubes into the pail. He stomped on the basket to flatten it, throwing it away, also, before replacing the top. He wanted desperately to throw away the card along with it, but thought better of it in case he needed it to somehow help determine the identity of the sender. He placed it alongside the other two cards inside one of his portfolio books on a nearby shelf.

Unfortunately, discarding the contents of this latest gift did nothing to erase the apprehension quickly seeping into him. He remembered the platinum bracelet he still had stuffed in his jacket pocket. What was he supposed to do with that? Throwing it away didn't seem like a suitable solution for something that expensive.

A knock on the door just then made Justin jump. Approaching the entrance, he looked through the peephole and sighed in relief as he opened the door. "Daphne! Am I glad to see you." He looked around furtively as he held the door open for her to enter.

His friend frowned as she followed him upstairs into the loft. "What's with the FBI routine? Are there bank robbers on the loose or something? I thought you said this neighborhood was safe," she said kiddingly.

"I wish that was ALL I had to worry about," Justin grumbled as they both sat down on the couch.

"What in the world is up with you?" She asked her friend, puzzled.

Instead of answering her, Justin walked to the refrigerator and retrieved the expensive box of chocolates. He then reached into the pocket of his jacket hanging on the coat tree nearby and brought both items back to the couch.

"THIS is what's up with me," he said, holding out both items to her for inspection.

"Why, Justin, I didn't know you cared," she teased. "You really know the way to a girl's heart."

"Daph! Listen to me! This bracelet is made of PLATINUM. And the chocolates," he said, opening up the box to show her the contents, "cost $508.00. A POUND," he clarified.

"A POUND? Shit, Justin! Is Brian out of his mind? Besides, I thought he didn't do romance."

"That's just it, Daphne. They're not FROM Brian. And neither is the bracelet OR the paints."

"What paints?"

Justin walked over to the trash and, reaching in, pulled out one of the paint tubes. "THESE paints," he said, handing her the container.

"_Cockolet Dream Edible Paint_?" She giggled. "Please. You've got to be kidding. No WONDER you threw that shit out." She noticed that despite the ridiculous-sounding name, Justin did not crack a smile. Instead, he sat down next to her and placed his head in his hands.

"What?" She asked gently this time.

"Daphne, you haven't seen the cards. Each time I've had a delivery, I've gotten these personal cards with them. There's no return address, and they're all signed _From Your Secret Admirer. _It's really starting to creep me out."

"Do you think this guy is dangerous or something? I'm assuming it's a guy? Maybe you should get the police involved." She chewed on her lip thoughtfully. "How does Brian feel about all this? I know how he gets when he thinks some other guy is hitting on you."

"Yeah, I'm guessing it's a guy. I think he's just kind of obsessed. I don't think he really means any harm, though." Somewhat sheepishly, he continued, "Brian knows about the chocolates. But I haven't told him about the bracelet, which was hand-delivered to me at the diner yesterday. And the paints just showed up in a basket on my doorstep earlier today, so even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have had a chance to tell him yet."

"But you're not PLANNING on telling him, are you?" She surmised.

Justin averted his eyes. "I don't know WHAT to do, Daph. It's like you said – you know how Brian gets. He's liable to go ballistic, especially when he reads the cards. They're pretty personal," he admitted, somewhat embarrassed.

Daphne nudged her friend to get his attention. "Justin, you HAVE to tell him. You two have built this new relationship on the promise you would no longer hide anything from each other. This counts as a BIG secret in my book. You HAVE to tell him," she repeated with conviction. She had always been fond of Brian, but her admiration for him had increased especially during the past year when he appeared to be trying so earnestly to make Justin happy. She knew, too, how much her friend loved Brian in return, and how happy he had been these past several months living with him in their new loft.

"I know. You're right," he agreed. He remained silent for a few seconds. Justin sighed, exhaling a soft breath of resignation. "I'm not sure how I'll do it, but I'll tell him tonight," he decided.

Daphne smiled sympathetically. "You're doing the right thing, Justin," she reassured him. "He loves you, and he deserves to know. The two of you will figure it out together." Glancing at the time, she said, "I've got to go. Let me know what happens, okay?"

As Justin walked downstairs with Daphne to the door, he gave her a quick hug. "Thanks, Daph," he smiled. "I appreciate you being my sounding board."

Smiling back in return, she said, "Just remember what I said. NO secrets."

"Cross my heart," Justin answered, drawing an imaginary "X" across his chest as she left. Despite his assurance to Daphne that his secret admirer was harmless, he nonetheless made sure to engage the deadbolt after his friend's departure. Attempting to forget about the events of the past few days, he returned to the studio to try and resume working on his painting while he silently rehearsed what he would say to his partner later tonight.


	4. Chapter 4: Heart to Heart

"Mr. Prescott? Here is the CD you requested. Will there be anything else, sir?" Lane's assistant, Sylvia Broadwell, handed him the disc.

"No, thank you, Sylvia," the elegantly-dressed man answered her smoothly. "That will be all for now." As his assistant closed the door behind her, an original oil painting hanging on the opposite wall captured his attention and he found his thoughts once again concentrating on a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed artist. One that no matter how hard he tried, he could not get out of his mind. A man that had totally captivated him just over a year ago, when he had first laid eyes on Justin Taylor at a charity benefit in Pittsburgh. He had been mesmerized then by the man's soft, blond hair, sapphire blue eyes, and full, pink lips, and he had later found himself the lucky recipient of the man's radiant smile when he said or did something that particularly delighted the artist. And when he finally had the opportunity to be with Justin alone to get to know him better, he found himself falling even deeper in love with this intelligent, creative man who craved romance. A man who deserved to be cherished. A man that someone like that arrogant prick, Brian Kinney, could never appreciate properly.

Lane had appeared to give up hope of winning Justin's heart that day at the airport several months ago when he had tried to persuade the artist to come back with him to New York City. Justin had professed his love for Kinney then, and Lane had appeared to accept that. But as he had previously pointed out to the cocky ad exec, Lane Prescott hadn't become so successful by giving up easily. And when he wanted something, he pursued it until he had it. And he still wanted nothing more badly than winning Justin Taylor's heart – body and soul.

With Valentine's Day fast approaching, then, Lane had decided it was time to launch an all-out, full-scale campaign to capture the blond's affections. The detective he had hired had spent the last several months becoming familiar with every aspect of Justin's life: his friends, his preferred hangouts, his favorite food and music, his family history. Lane frowned as he remembered the detective's initial report. He was not happy to learn that Justin and Brian had moved in together in Lawrenceville shortly after he had returned to his corporate offices in New York City. But a powerful, successful man such as he was not easily deterred by a minor inconvenience.

The chocolates, bracelet and paints had been a good start. But a man like Justin was not easily swayed or impressed by money or expensive gifts. Now was the time to turn it up a notch. Lane was convinced the proper method to win Justin over was by appealing to his emotions. Hence the CD he was presently holding in his hand. He smiled as he envisioned Justin's reaction to this latest personal gift. _This should help tell him how I feel,_ he thought. Dialing his assistant, he asked Sylvia to prepare a messenger for the next delivery.

* * *

Sitting on the loft couch, Justin felt a pair of toned arms slowly snake around from the back and wrap themselves around his neck. "Fuck, Sunshine, you're so tight, but not where I prefer you to be tight," Brian smirked, as he massaged the knots in Justin's shoulders. "What's got you so tense?" He reached down to nuzzle and kiss the blond's neck just below his right ear, producing a shiver in his partner.

Justin sighed. _This is it. Time to come clean and let Mt. Kinney erupt, if necessary_. "It probably has something to do with this," he said, reaching inside his pocket and holding up the braided bracelet for Brian to see. "And this," he added, picking up one of the edible paint tubes from the cushion. "And this." He picked up the box of chocolates he had taken out earlier from the refrigerator.

"What the fuck?" Where did all this come from?" Brian failed to keep the jealousy from creeping into his voice. The bracelet, especially, got his attention immediately. Brian was knowledgeable enough about expensive jewelry to be able to spot a valuable piece when he saw it, and the bracelet practically screamed EXPENSIVE and then some. He retrieved the bracelet from Justin's hand, and sitting down on the back of the couch, held it up to inspect it more closely.

"Justin, this is platinum. Do you have any idea how expensive this is?"

"Well, not exactly. But the _Tiffany's_ box it came in kind of gave it away," he said sarcastically. "Turn it over," he said, somewhat hesitantly.

Brian did as Justin instructed. As he turned it face down, he noticed some type of inscription in fancy scroll on the underside. He held it closely in front of his face to read what it said. _Two hearts and two bodies that will soon be united as one. Your secret admirer_

Justin counted. Three, two, one…. Brian did not disappoint him. "What in the fuck is this!!" He yelled. "Who sent this? I'll rip his fucking balls off right now! Tell me, Justin!" At that moment, it would have been evident to anyone that by now Brian Kinney no longer made any attempts to hide his concern or jealousy when it came to another man desiring his partner.

"I wish I knew, Brian. Really – I have no idea. I told you about the chocolates the other day. Since then, these other two packages have been delivered, one each day. None of them had a sender's address on them, and I only saw the delivery person for the first two gifts. The chocolates were delivered here to the loft by some guy in a uniform with no company name, and the bracelet was actually hand-delivered to me at the diner. It wasn't the same guy, and the second one left immediately without saying another word after I identified myself. Then, this basket of paint was dropped off today by our loft door. I didn't even know there WAS a delivery until I heard the outside buzzer. By the time I found it, whoever had delivered it was long gone somehow. There wasn't a card with the bracelet, only with the other two gifts."

Brian was still upset, but he tried to remain calm as he asked, "What cards?"

"These." Justin handed him the two small gift cards and watched as the older man read the inscriptions. He noticed his lover's face flush and his eyes darken as he read what they said.

"Shit! Justin, these are VERY personal messages. Surely you have SOME idea who's sending them." His hands were clenched in anger as he turned to his partner.

"Brian, I TOLD you, I have NO idea. What are you trying to say? Do you think I've been encouraging someone? Or worse, do you think I'm fucking some guy behind your back? If I was, do you think I'd be showing you this?" His eyes threatened to tear up in frustration as he waited for Brian to answer him. "Brian, answer me. I thought we had already covered this before I agreed to move in with you. Either you trust me or you don't. I trust YOU."

Brian looked at the man he loved more than anything whose eyes were now bright with unshed tears. His anger instantly dissolved. He let out a deep breath. "I DO trust you, Justin." He paused. These candid discussions were still so damn hard for him. "I'm sorry," he said softly, reaching down to caress the other man's cheek. He was rewarded with a slight smile of relief. "But we need to get to the bottom of this, Sunshine. I won't have some rich, lovesick queer running around Pittsburgh leaving little trinkets of affection for my partner. This borders on stalking. I'm going to talk to Horvath."

Justin grasped his sleeve. "Brian, no. That's not necessary. Besides, what could he do? He can't arrest someone for having a crush on me. Let's just ignore him. I'm sure the guy will just give up when he doesn't get any encouragement. I'd already thrown out the paints in the garbage before I decided you needed to know what was going on. I'll get rid of the chocolates and the bracelet, too. Just forget about them, Brian," he pleaded. "They don't mean anything to me. HE doesn't mean anything to me. You're the man I love." Justin reached out to grasp Brian's neck and pull the older man down for a passionate kiss, one that was urgently returned by his partner. Justin then tugged on Brian's loosened tie to pull his lover down on top of him, both tumbling onto the leather couch.

"Just don't you ever forget that, Sunshine," he murmured, as he eagerly unzipped the blond's jeans and reached for his target. He tossed the tube of _Ecru Ecstasy _several feet away onto the loft floor as he said,"I don't need any fucking edible paints to make love to you." Justin squirmed and sighed in pleasure as Brian proceeded to remind him of just how much he DID love him.


	5. Chapter 5: Fear and Resolve

Justin turned to look at Brian lying peacefully on his side. It was unusual for him to awaken before the older man. Justin had never been a "morning person," especially after one of their marathon combination fucking and love-making sessions like the one they had last night. He sighed in contentment, feeling Brian's arm wrapped possessively around his waist. Justin always felt so safe and protected when he lay snuggled next to his partner, his hand on Brian's chest listening to his lover's heartbeat. The fact that he and Brian had been able to discuss what had been going on for the last few days was evidence of just how much their relationship had matured, especially over the last year. Brian had been trying harder to verbally express his love to Justin, even though he would always be better at SHOWING him. _Which is not always such a bad thing,_ Justin thought, smiling. Their sex life was as exciting as always. Because they knew each other so well by now, they knew instinctively what pleased each other, and were now consummate experts at giving each other pleasure. But when it came to their relationship, familiarity had definitely NOT bred boredom.

Sunlight poured through the loft windows as Justin continued to relish being cocooned with Brian. It helped him to see things more clearly and made Justin feel much better about the unsolicited gifts. _It's like I told Brian, I'll just throw them out and forget about them. It's no big deal – just some guy with a crush._

Justin's thoughts were interrupted just then by a pair of hazel eyes staring back at him. "You're awake."

"I'm glad to see you're putting that 1500 score on your SAT to good use," Brian remarked, smirking. He pulled Justin closer to him and peppered his face with light kisses before pulling back to glance at the clock. "And while I'd love to stay here and see what other super-intelligent comments you have to impart, if I don't get up right now I'll be late for work," he said, somewhat regretfully.

Justin glanced down. "Looks like you're already up," he said smiling seductively, inching closer to his partner until both their bodies were touching full length.

Brian groaned slightly as he felt Justin's erection brush against him. "Sunshine, you're not playing fair here," he complained. "You'll just have to join me in the shower to take care of my little problem," he added, eyebrows rising in challenge. Brian pulled the covers back and, like some sleek cat, poured his body from the bed. He held out a long arm toward Justin, who stood up to clasp his hand. Giving the blond a more passionate kiss, Brian gently tugged him toward the bathroom to take care of his "condition" before changing for work.

* * *

Thanks to his talk with Brian yesterday and their "extracurricular activities last night," Justin was able to concentrate more fully on his current project, devoting several hours in the studio until well into the afternoon. He sighed in relief. There had been no other deliveries made since yesterday, and he was hopeful the "boyfriend wannabe" had finally given up his crusade and moved on to another target.

His right hand was beginning to cramp when he decided it was time for a short lunch break. While he heated up a frozen dinner in the microwave upstairs, he noticed the mail had been delivered through the front door slot below. Walking back upstairs to the loft to retrieve his lunch from the kitchen, he was barely mindful of the various pieces of mail he had collected from the foyer. Because he and Brian both owned businesses, it was not uncommon for the two of them to receive several pieces of mail daily, so today's assortment was nothing out of the ordinary. Placing them absentmindedly on the coffee table, he tackled the chicken parmesan dinner while he leafed through the latest edition of _Artist's Magazine._

* * *

Justin was putting the finishing touches on his latest creation when Brian arrived home from Kinnetik. "Hey, Sunshine," he called, walking over to his partner and wrapping him in his lean arms to bestow a thorough kiss on the artist. Justin's smile was radiant as he pulled back from his lover. "Hey, yourself, Mr. Kinney."

"And how was your day, dear?" Brian smiled as he responded in a falsetto voice, continuing to hold the blond tenderly.

"Very productive, actually. I got my latest painting completed today," he announced proudly. "The client who commissioned it will be glad to hear it's done. He promised me a bonus, in fact, if I got it finished before the end of this week. He wants to put it in his new office, and he's planning on moving in this weekend." He grasped Brian's upper arms and squeezed them lightly as he flirted with him. "I might have to take my favorite guy out on the town for a lobster dinner to celebrate. What do you think he'll say?" He asked innocently.

"I'll think he'd be crazy to pass up a date with such a sexy guy," he whispered, moving closely to rub the blond's nose in an Eskimo kiss. Moving down to nuzzle the pale neck, he drawled huskily, "Just don't forget to save room for dessert at home afterward," eliciting a delicious shiver from his partner.

Justin cleared his throat. "Sounds like a very sound nutritional plan, Mr. Kinney. I'll go call the man now and ask him if he's available….." Justin didn't make it very far before he heard a pretend growl nearby as his lover wrapped his arms around the slender waist from behind. "Don't you even KID about that, Sunshine," he warned, whispering softly in his ear, attempting but not quite succeeding in keeping a hint of vulnerability from creeping into his voice. It never ceased to amaze him how this young man could make his emotions so susceptible and exposed, but cause his spirit to soar. No one had ever succeeded in doing that before Justin came along, and Brian had no intention of ever giving that euphoric feeling up.

"Well, then, since you're offering to take the guy's place instead, why don't I go change out of my paint-splattered duds for something more presentable?" He smiled warmly at the brunet as he walked into the loft to change.

Brian watched his partner's adorable ass strut away before turning to look for the day's mail; he was expecting an important document from his CPA and was told it was mailed yesterday. Looking around, he spotted the mail perched on the coffee table. He sorted through various bills and junk advertisements, finally locating the envelope he was looking for, when he also noticed a flat, square, white Mylar envelope addressed to Justin in care of _Sunshine Studios_. There was no return address on the package, however.

Justin returned to the loft's living room at that moment, wearing a pair of linen dress slacks and a dark navy cashmere sweater, anxious to take his "favorite guy" out on the town. "What's that?" he asked Brian, noticing the package his partner was holding up.

"That's what I'D like to know, Sunshine. It's addressed to you. Why don't you open it up?" Justin noticed the man's eyes had darkened and a slight scowl had appeared on his handsome face.

Justin hesitated; he did not want their pleasant evening to be spoiled somehow. "Uh, why don't we just open it when we get back, Brian? I'm really hungry and it can wait. Please," he added, softly.

Brian, however, was not to be deterred. "No, Justin," he said softly but firmly. "Open it now." A sense of dread was slowly permeating the room's atmosphere as he held the package out to the artist.

Sighing, Justin nervously took the package from Brian's outstretched hand and located a pair of scissors. Brian watched intently as he opened the package and slid out what appeared to be a CD in a plastic case. He could tell there was a jacket cover on the case with some sort of design, and a note that was taped to the front with Justin's name written on it.

Justin pulled the folded note first from the case. Before he opened it up, he looked more closely at the case itself. Justin recognized with a shock the photo of himself appearing on the front of the CD; it had to have been taken just last week when he was at his latest art show, because it showed him standing next to one of his paintings that had sold for several thousand dollars that night. It was clearly a candid shot of him, and not one taken formally, as he had not actually posed for any photos. Someone had apparently taken the photo of him without his knowledge. Justin stole a glance at his partner nearby, who by the look on his face was realizing the same thing.

The blond then turned the homemade CD over to examine the back, which turned out to be a list of songs evidently contained on the CD. The songs, which ran the gamut of musical tastes, ranged from such titles as "I Want to Kiss You All Over" to "Sexy Boy" to "Can't Help Falling in Love with You." Justin's face flushed red in embarrassment and awkwardness as he continued silently reading the rest of the other titles, some of which he recognized and some he did not, but each consisting of a recurrent theme: "Sexual Healing," "Take My Breath Away," "Some Like it Hot," "Open Your Heart to Me," "Vehicle," and "The Way You Make Me Feel."

"Well, at least your fucking secret admirer has an eclectic taste in music," Brian said sarcastically, unable to hide the anger in his voice as he peered from behind Justin's shoulder to look over the list. He snaked a hand around Justin to place a hand on the CD to steady it, as Justin's nervousness caused it to shake.

"Just forget it, Brian," Justin said pleadingly, attempting to wrestle the CD loose from Brian's grasp. Brian, however, firmly wrapped his hand around it, refusing to budge.

"How can I forget it, Justin? Your fucking secret admirer has seen to that, hasn't he?" Brian snatched the CD away from his lover and threw it violently away. Justin jumped at the sound of the CD case shattering on the wooden floor in the open room.

Brian turned his attention to the piece of paper still clutched in his lover's now trembling hand. "Let's see the note, Justin," he said roughly. "Let's see what piece of literary genius he's written THIS time."

"Brian, please," Justin begged. "Let's just throw it away and not even read it. Don't give him any more power over us. He's not worth it."

"Justin, I've about had it with this game he's playing. Who the fuck does he think he is?" he snarled. Looking at Justin, he took a deep breath before continuing in a more gentle tone. "We can't just ignore this is happening, Sunshine." He realized the intensity of his feelings, the HATRED he was beginning to feel for this unknown stranger, was actually beginning to frighten his partner. That was the last thing Brian wanted to do to the man he loved so deeply. Holding out his outstretched hand, he continued in the same soothing tone, "Let me see it. Come on," he urged the blond.

Justin pursed his lips together tightly before finally handing the folded note over to Brian. Chewing on a fingernail nervously, he held his breath as the older man opened it slowly and silently read the latest message addressed to his lover:

_While you listen to this, think of us and the beautiful music we'll soon be making together forever. Anxiously awaiting our reunion. Your Secret Admirer._

"_Fucking piece of shit! I'll KILL the son of a bitch when I get my hands on him! Who the FUCK does he think he is?!" _Brian could no longer control his fury. He crumpled the note into a tight ball with both hands and threw it on the floor. Walking over to the remains of the damaged CD case, he smashed his boot down on it to thoroughly finish it off. He grabbed a lighter from the nearby coffee table and retrieved the note, preparing to burn it to a crisp, before Justin reached out a hand to stop him.

"No, Brian. Think! We may NEED this to help prove who's sending these. I don't like this any more than YOU do, but I think we should keep it just in case."

"Why, are you planning on keeping a scrapbook now, Sunshine?" Brian knew the minute it came out of his mouth that he had made a mistake; Justin suddenly looked as if he had been slapped. "I'm sorry, Justin," he said hurriedly, pulling the man into an embrace, the balled note still clutched in his hand. "I didn't mean that," he said, whispering in the other man's ear. "I love you," he murmured. "And the thought of someone stalking your every move fucking terrifies me. If I ever lost you….."

"Shh." Justin wrapped his arms firmly around the other man, uttering soothing words of nonsense as he laid his head on his partner's chest. He felt the older man's heart beating rapidly as he reassured him, "Nothing's going to happen to me, Brian. Not when you're around to protect me."

"Justin," he simply responded softly, as his arms tightened around the artist. The anger slowly subsided, but not the fear. Brian resolved that tomorrow he would find a way to stop this nonsense. For now, however, he was content to hold the man he loved in his arms and keep him safe from harm.


	6. Chapter 6: Not to be Deterred

"Hey, kiddo. How are you? You look like shit."

"Gee, thanks, Deb, you always know the perfect thing to say," Brian answered, motioning for her to pour him some coffee. "You'd look like shit, too, if you'd had about two hours of sleep."

"What's wrong? Sunshine keep you up too late _exercising _last night?" She smirked.

"Something like that. But not for the reason you think." For once, Brian was actually being sincere instead of sarcastic. In other words, totally UNLIKE him. Now she was REALLY concerned. "Something wrong with Sunshine?" She asked.

"No, he's okay," Brian answered, irritated.

"Then why do you sound like someone's shoved a poker up your ass?" Debbie eyed him carefully.

"Just forget it, Deb! Everything's fine," he growled.

"Okay – don't bite my head off. Shit! Drink some more coffee. I'll go see if I can find some strychnine to put it in to spice it up." Shaking her head, she stomped back towards the kitchen to pick up the latest order. Walking back toward the counter, her face lit up as she saw a familiar face. "Carl! Hi, Honey! What you doing here, sweetie?" she asked the man as she gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Hi, Sweetheart. I'm actually here to meet someone," he informed her, taking a seat directly next to Brian. "Can you get me some coffee and one of those early bird specials the way I like it?"

She eyed both of them curiously. "Sure, Honey," she answered, pouring him some coffee from the pot in her hand before walking off to place his order.

Carl turned his attention back to his dining companion. "Now, Brian, what is it you wanted me for? You said it was police business," he reminded the other man.

Brian looked around to determine where Debbie was. He knew how protective she was of Justin, so he decided he would rather not wind up having to explain to her what was going on. "Yeah, it is. And actually, I'd rather not have Debbie know what's going on. I know how she is, and I don't want her to worry, okay?"

"Does it have something to do with her?" He asked Brian, now somewhat concerned.

"No," the hazel-eyed man reassured him. "Not her. Justin."

"What about Justin?" Carl had known the young man for some time now by virtue of his close relationship with Debbie, and he had grown to admire and like the artist.

Brian scowled, disgust plainly evident on his handsome features. "It seems Justin has earned a _secret admirer,_ he said with great distaste. "This guy has been leaving him little trinkets the last few days, and I want it to stop."

"Trinkets? What do you mean by _trinkets?" _

"Well, the first one was a box of _Delafee_ chocolates. You know what those are?" At Carl's negative shake of his head, Brian explained. "They're VERY expensive chocolates." Reciting the facts as if it were a commercial, he elaborated, "They're made from the finest cocoa beans, and oh, yeah, flakes of 24-carat gold in them. Justin told me Emmett had learned about them from George, you know, the pickle guy? Emmett said George told him they cost $508.00 a POUND." Brian watched the same incredulous expression appear on Carl's face that he had worn himself the first time Justin had told HIM, too.

Carl whistled. "Wow! That definitely puts _Whitman's Chocolates_ to shame, doesn't it?" He noticed Brian not sharing in his little attempt at levity, however. Clearing his throat, he said, "What else has he gotten?"

"The second gift was a platinum bracelet shaped in the form of two intertwining braids. It came from _Tiffany's._ The day before yesterday, he was left a large basket outside the loft containing several tubes of edible paint." He noticed Carl trying hard to stifle a small smile at the mention of THAT gift. "And then yesterday, this asshole sent him a custom-made CD of little "ditties" that left no doubt as to what exactly he had in mind for Justin and him to do in their _spare time_."

"How are these gifts being delivered?"

"Well, the first gift was delivered by a guy in a nondescript uniform, sort of like a UPS delivery man. The second guy who delivered the bracelet actually gave it directly to Justin here at the diner. The paint, like I said, was delivered at the loft by someone Justin didn't even see. And the CD was mailed to him in care of the studio by Priority Mail. There's never any return address, of course."

"Has this guy made any threats toward Justin?"

Brian hesitated. "Well, no, not exactly, but the messages are VERY personal ones." Carl heard paper crinkling as Brian pulled out three notes from his briefcase, one badly wrinkled, handing them to the police detective. He also placed the bracelet in his outstretched hand. "There's an inscription on the back." Carl studied the notes and flipped the piece of jewelry over to read the inscription.

Brian peered intently at the older man, waiting somewhat anxiously for his response. Finally, the man replied, somewhat sympathetically, "I have to be straight with you, Brian. I know this isn't what you want to hear but unless this guy has done something that either indicates he means to inflict physical harm on Justin, or acts in a way to create substantial emotional distress to him, my hands are tied. The laws in Pennsylvania are very specific about it."

"What the fuck do you think he's doing by sending these explicit messages to him? You don't think that constitutes _emotional distress?_"

"Brian, the exact term is _SEVERE emotional distress_, specifically meaning a state of temporary or permanent mental ANGUISH_. _That's a pretty strong term, so it can be very difficult to prove. If you don't have an open and shut case, the guy could just walk shortly after he's brought in," he finished truthfully.

Brian's frustration was apparent now as he practically yelled, "Well, what the fuck does the guy have to do before the situation IS taken seriously? HURT Justin? That's a bunch of BULLSHIT! I'm not going to stand around and wait for this asshole to take his sick game to the next level! If you won't help me, then I'll just have to do something myself!" He stood up, as he snatched the notes and bracelet from Carl's hands.

"Brian? Carl? What's going on?" Debbie couldn't help overhearing Brian's outburst. "What about Justin?" She tried to get Brian's attention as he rushed in a huff toward the door. "Carl?" She turned to her boyfriend for an explanation.

"Brian – wait! Don't do anything rash! Let's try and work out a solution to the problem within the scope of the law," Carl called to him, trying his best to placate the other man, but Brian stomped toward the door.

"I don't have to be _politically correct,_" he responded acidly. "I'll take care of it myself!" He slammed the door shut as he stomped out of the diner.

* * *

The city lights of Pittsburgh twinkled far below his rented penthouse as Lane Prescott waited impatiently for the detective to arrive with his latest report. He was getting tired of having to draw this seduction out. His captivation with Justin had not lessened since he had last seen him over a year ago; in fact, if anything, it had gotten even stronger. The photos he had arranged to have taken of him at a recent art show and other local events had proved the blond had only become more attractive since the last time he had had the pleasure of his company. The blond hair was somewhat longer and the body a little more toned. But the blue eyes, which had always mesmerized the sportswear tycoon, were as fascinating as ever: sparkling with excitement, flecked with almost silver at times, and endless in their scope. And the smile. The first time Lane had seen that smile, he was stunned. He had no idea how amazing it was. He understood then why he had heard Justin's brassy friend at the auction call him "Sunshine." It certainly fit, he thought. As the recipient of that smile, Lane's heart had swelled and he had fallen more deeply in love with the young man than ever. It was the height of irony that as powerful as Lane was in the business world, in the company of this artist he found himself vulnerable and almost helpless.

His thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing sound. Pressing the nearby intercom, he asked, "Is that you, Kingsley?" David Kingsley, the detective he had been anxiously waiting for, answered affirmatively.

"Come on up," he instructed the man. Moments later, he opened the front door as he heard the man knocking; he had dismissed his staff earlier for the sake of complete privacy.

"Have a seat," he instructed the man. "Drink?" He handed the wiry, bespectacled man a scotch, as the detective placed a fairly thick folder on the couch beside him as he sat down.

"Thanks." Knowing the man was impatient to learn his latest news, he began without any further preamble. "I arranged for the four gifts to be delivered as you instructed. I also determined through my surveillance partners that Kinney just had a new, state of the art security system installed at their loft today. He also had several cameras placed around the entire perimeter of the studio, obviously to film a record of any future deliveries."

_Bastard_, Lane thought. He's still as arrogant as ever. Aloud, he advised the detective, "That doesn't bother me. I'm about to put the next part of my plan into action, anyway. A more _direct_ approach. I want you to stay on standby in case I need you for anything further. I will handle the next part of the plan. In the meantime, I want you to leave what you have with me." Nodding his head in understanding, Kingsley gulped down the reminder of his scotch and rose to leave.

As the man shut the door behind him, Lane picked up the now fairly voluminous folder and leafed through it thoughtfully. Among such documents as the _Sunshine Studio_'s blueprint, the loft floor plan, and a copy of Brian & Justin's lease, were several of the photos taken of Justin and his work sprinkled throughout the folder. Lane glared in hatred at the photos showing the blond vision with that arrogant prick of a man, Kinney. He had to construct an effective way to separate Justin from that possessive man's clutches. Easy enough – it had to simply involve appealing to Kinney's love for competition and Justin's love for art. For a man with his power, money, and influence, that should not be a problem, Lane thought. He smiled, licking his lips slightly in anticipation of soon being reunited with the beautiful artist. _Soon, Angel, _he thought eagerly. _Soon._


	7. Chapter 7: Worry and Duplicity

Justin couldn't stand it any longer. Sighing, he placed the paintbrush down and turned to stare at his partner.

"Brian, will you PLEASE stop hovering?

"I'm NOT hovering! I'm over here and you're over there."

"No, you're sitting 10 feet away from me while I'm working on a painting, watching my every move. That's hovering."

"I'm doing research," the brunet protested, attempting to appear disinterested as he looked back down at his laptop perched on the nearby work table.

"Since when you do you work on your laptop down here in my studio? You're sitting five feet off the floor, with your feet dangling on a barstool, for fuck's sake! Brian, come on! This has got to stop!" Justin threw up his hands in frustration.

"What?"

"You KNOW what. This watching my every move shit! You've got cameras everywhere, deadbolts on each door, and an alarm system that would rival Ft. Knox! I fucking can't take this anymore!"

Finally, Brian, too, sighed. "What would you have me do, Sunshine?" he said softly, scooting off the stool to approach the now-rattled artist. He reached out to wrap the slender man possessively in his arms, feeling the other man reach around his waist in return, head snuggling into his chest.

They stood that way for several seconds, until Brian reluctantly released him, still keeping a loose hold on the other man. He looked down at Justin, whose sapphire eyes were closely scrutinizing him.

"Brian." That soft, affectionate tone always got his attention, even after all this time. _Shit, what this man could still do to me._ "We can't live this way. I can't live this way. I won't have someone making us a prisoner in our own home."

Releasing his lover, Brian began to pace back and forth, frustration building. "Justin, you HEARD what Horvath told me. The police won't do anything to help catch this fucker. They aren't taking it seriously enough. Well, I AM. I'm going to do what I have to do to make sure you're safe. And if I have to fucking hire an entire detective squad to catch this guy, damn it, I WILL!" Emotionally spent, Brian rubbed his tired face as he finally plopped down on the nearby loveseat, cradling his head in his hands, knees bent.

Justin moved to sit down next to him. Taking the lean hand in his, he squeezed it to get his partner's attention. "Brian, we don't know that this guy means any harm. So far, it just looks like he has a major crush on me. That IS perfectly understandable. After all, I AM pretty adorable," he said lightly, in an attempt at mollify his lover. "And there hasn't been any other deliveries in the past two days," he pointed out. The other man, however, was not amused.

"This isn't some game, Justin. I don't think this is funny at all. You don't know WHAT this man is capable of. I know you think I'm overreacting, but I don't feel that way."

"Brian, what about your business? I know you depend on Cynthia and Ted, but they're not you. And you can't run the most profitable advertising agency in Pittsburgh or generate new clients from home. Do you think I'm going to let all that you've worked for go down the crapper? No fucking way."

Brian opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped as Justin persisted. "Are you listening to me? Huh?"

"Yes, damn it, I'm listening," Brian responded, irritated.

"Well, this is what you are going to do, Mr. Kinney. You are going to take a shower, get dressed, and get your sorry ass back to work, so your partner can concentrate on finishing his painting and contributing his fair share to this happy little love nest." Before Brian had a chance to argue with him, Justin pulled him up from the loveseat, grasping both of his arms. "Brian, I promise I will put the alarm system on as soon as you leave and lock every fucking door until Emmett comes later to take me to lunch. And I WILL go out to lunch to keep my head from exploding because of being trapped inside this studio!"

Brian's worry was not assuaged. "Oh, I feel a LOT better knowing that Emmett the nelly queen will be protecting you from harm." He sighed again. "But I also know you won't be talked out of this, will you?" _Stubborn little shit._ _This is not just some fucking chicken soup here._

"No." He smiled tenderly at the older man as he gave him a slight push toward the spiral staircase leading to their loft. "No, I won't. But I love you, you know, for being so protective of me."

Brian reached to grab the artist's hand, pulling him back into his arms. He bit his lip nervously as he proclaimed, "And I love you, Sunshine." _More than I think you'll ever realize. _Resigned to being forced to carry out Justin's wishes, he murmured, "At least come upstairs and supply me with some morning protein to start my creative _juices _flowing."

Justin smiled as he bestowed a tender kiss on the hazel-eyed man's lips. "I suppose that's the least I can do, _Mr. Kinney_," he answered seductively, as he followed Brian up the stairs toward the loft.

* * *

"Ah." Justin closed his eyes in contentment, savoring the taste of his chicken parmesan, as well as his freedom. He and Em had wound up at one of his favorite restaurants in Lawrenceville, a small Italian place called _Scotti's._ It was a warm, early spring day, so he and Em had decided to walk the two blocks to the nearby establishment, despite Brian's paranoia. However, before Brian finally left for Kinnetik, Justin had to promise his partner that we would call him every hour without fail.

"This is just scrumptious, honey," Em enthused as he grabbed another forkful of his linguini. "I'm glad you suggested this place. Although, I must say, I'm surprised your _keeper_ let you out of the cage today."

Justin rolled his eyes slightly. "Let's just say he wasn't too happy about it. But he was driving me CRAZY, Em! He wouldn't let me out of his sight for one minute. I finally talked him into going back to work, before we killed each other!"

"Sweetie, you know he's just worried about you. I think it's kind of adorable, actually. Who would have ever thought Mr. Fuck-em-all Kinney would have changed into a protective lion watching over his little cub?"

"Yeah, well, it was high past time for Simba to be released back into the wild. For BOTH our sakes. Now I can finally get some work done on the latest painting I'm doing. That reminds me…..I haven't told you about my new commission, have I?"

Emmett noticed his friend's sudden excitement at the mention of this latest assignment. "No, last I heard you were finishing some abstract piece for that new dance studio downtown. I take it you've gotten a new commission since then?"

"Yes! Em, you're not going to believe this! This is the kind of commission I've been WAITING for!" Justin's smile was absolutely radiant as he described to Emmett how he had been contacted two days ago by a very important and influential restaurant conglomerate, Triangle Enterprises, which operates several fine four- and five-star dining eateries in the state of Pennsylvania. The man who called him, Vince Comisar, was well-known throughout the state for his success, and had been featured several times in _Epicurean_ magazine, as well as in television and print features. He had commissioned Justin to paint several French-style landscapes, one for the lobby of each restaurant, all of which were undergoing extensive renovations. The assignment would undoubtedly not only be a lucrative one, but Comisar had also promised to showcase his talents by featuring a biography of Justin and his studio next to each completed piece.

Giving his young friend a hug, he said, "Wow! That's awesome, Baby! I'm so happy for you!" Em was very impressed, but not that surprised at Justin's success. He knew how talented his friend was, and that it was just a matter of time before everyone else realized it. He grabbed another piece of homemade bread as he observed Justin's eyes light up.

"So now you know why I needed for Brian to go back to Kinnetik," he smirked. "I have a LOT of work to do. Mr. Comisar's giving me a fair amount of time to get it all done, but he wants the first piece delivered within a week. I was going to have a hard time meeting that deadline, with _Simba_ underfoot," evoking a knowing chuckle from his flamboyant friend. He looked down at his cell phone, lying on the table. "Speaking of which, I'd better make my next hourly checkup call before the lion roars," he said, flipping the phone open and pressing Brian's speed dial number.

* * *

Sitting in his leather recliner at the penthouse, the attractive, elegant, black-haired man smiled. The first phase of his plan was underway, and it looked very promising. _It has succeeded my wildest dreams, in fact, _he thought. _It not only got that arrogant asshole Kinney back to work, it got my Angel out of his locked dungeon._ Lane again played back the surveillance video shot earlier today by Kingsley, hitting the pause button on a particularly attractive close-up of his stunning Angel. It showed him in an especially animated pose inside a nearby restaurant, eyes brightly shining while he flashed the same blinding, radiant smile that Lane had been so captivated by the first time he had experienced it. _Soon, I will see that smile in person again, Angel._ _I can hardly wait, but it will be so worth it._

Now, it was time to get Kinney's attention with the next part of his plan......Picking up the phone, he dialed a familiar number. "Jack? Lane. Listen – I need a favor." Lane smiled. _This will be TOO easy._


	8. Chapter 8: Freedom with a Price

"Brian, you're shitting me, right?" Cynthia looked at Brian incredulously as she placed a mug of coffee on her boss' desk. "You can't possibly think that Ted – sorry, no offense, Ted – could take your place on this trip! After all, Belden asked for you PERSONALLY – do you know how huge that is?"

"No offense taken, Cynthia," Ted answered with conviction from his perch on the couch. "I actually agree with her on this one. There is NO way I can convince Jack Belden to sign with Kinnetik. I've heard enough about him to know his main hobby is eating ad agency execs alive. He fired the last three agencies he signed up with. He's NOT going to be happy with a second-string player trying to get his business. Why would you even entertain that thought? The great Brian Kinney THRIVES on besting the competition. And nothing BUT the best will work where Belden's concerned, and you know that."

Brian pinched his nose with two long fingers. He knew they were both right – he HAD to be the one to try and lure Belden's business to Kinnetik; Belden Industries was a powerhouse in spirits manufacturing, and a successful advertising relationship with the large, multinational corporation would be a major coup. But how could he take off for Chicago right now with Justin's situation not resolved? Granted, there had not been any further contact from the "Secret Admirer" in three days now; it would appear the fucker had finally given up. But something just didn't sit right. The man had been so aggressive, sending his partner expensive gifts and explicit messages for four straight days, then all of a sudden he had stopped. Why? Had the alarm system and web cameras that Brian installed been enough to discourage this guy from any further overtures toward his lover? Still, how could Brian be sure Justin wouldn't be in any danger if he were to go away for maybe as long as a week?

"Brian?" Cynthia was still standing at his desk, waiting for an explanation. Turning his attention back to the moment at hand, he sighed – he realized he would have to be the one to go, but that didn't mean he couldn't take some more precautions. He knew, however, that a certain stubborn, blond-haired artist would NOT like that one bit. _Well, what Justin doesn't know won't hurt him._

"Okay, okay, you're both right. I'll have to be the one to go. Cynthia, you said Belden's agreed to see us tomorrow morning at 11:00 a.m.?" At Cynthia's affirmative nod, he instructed her, "Then call Will and tell him to have the jet readied for a departure first thing tomorrow morning, let's say 8:00 a.m. That should give me plenty of time to get to Belden's office well before my appointment." Turning to Ted, also, he barked, "And tell Andrew and Jamie to get those mockups done ASAP! They have until 2:00 today, or from now on they can use their art skills to create Job Wanted signs!" he barked. "GO!" he shouted, startling even his usually unflappable assistant; Cynthia rolled her eyes, sarcastically commenting, "Ooh, I love it when you get controlling," as she ran out to make the necessary travel arrangements. Ted, also, jumped up from the couch to follow up with the Art Department.

Picking up the phone, Brian began to put his plan into action. "Lee? Brian. Yeah, I'm good. How's the little wifey and kids? Listen, I need a security detail right away for a job – might be for as long as a week." Brian had used Lee's security service frequently in the past for social events related to various clients, and trusted the man's instincts. He gave the man the address for the loft, and filled him in with sufficient details about what he needed. He also obtained Lee's promise that the three men assigned to watch over the loft, and consequently his lover, would be discreet and not even discernible to his partner.

Somewhat satisfied that Justin would not be able to go anywhere without the security men following his every movement, Brian closed up his briefcase and prepared to go home to pack for his business trip.

* * *

"Free at last!" Justin flopped down on the loft's leather couch as Daphne grinned at him.

"Well, Mr. Jailbird, what are you going to do now with your new-found freedom once you're done savoring it?" she asked him.

"Oh, so much to do, so little time," he grinned back at her gleefully. As much as he hated to admit it, while he missed Brian terribly whenever he was away, the thought of finally being able to go out and do something without his shadow diagramming his every move, did have a certain appeal. While "Simba" was away, the cub was definitely going to play….Thank God, too, that he finally persuaded Brian to give up the one-per-hour check-ins. He managed to talk him into letting him call once in the morning, and once in the afternoon. The evenings were going to be reserved for the more important activity of phone sex until the real thing could be revived when Brian returned…....For now, though, he was on parole, he thought, smiling.

The ideas instantly tumbled out. "Well, how about a movie for starters? There's the discount one down the street that shows the independent films. Then afterward we can hit that retro ice cream parlor three doors down? Then, we could go over to the _Eight Ball_ and shoot some pool. By then…."

"Whoa, Tex, I think I take it back! I'm exhausted and we haven't even left yet!" she laughed, giving her friend a sharp poke in the ribs, producing a melodramatic "ouch, I'm dying" from the blond. Standing up, she said, "Well, how about some breakfast for starters? Looks like the first showing doesn't start until almost 11:00," she observed, peering at the entertainment section of the paper. "I can't believe you guys still get the paper delivered," she said. "Haven't you two heard of the internet?" she teased.

"I know. But Brian practically devours the business section of each paper we get, so he can look for possible leads for Kinnetik. I have to admit, he has become pretty adept at scoping out new clients that way. He's pretty anal about it – he evens tears out the articles and puts them in a fucking notebook," he laughed.

Daphne scrunched up her nose. "You're kidding…That is so lame!" Justin threw one of the couch pillows at her, Daphne adroitly ducking as it barely missed her. Standing up, she stretched out her hand to her friend as she said, with a pronounced drawl, "Well, pardner, better saddle up now because we've got a full day ahead of us."

Justin rolled his eyes and laughed. Putting on his jacket, he replied, "Let me go find my horse and we can be off, then. I think I hear a Belgium waffle calling me…."

* * *

Lane Prescott was NOT a happy man. He had easily managed to dupe that asshole Kinney into leaving for Chicago this morning to meet with his friend, Jack, who was only too happy to oblige him. God knows he had done enough favors for his former fraternity brother when he needed assistance getting his business off the ground. And he liked the fact that Jack never asked questions. Besides, Kinney was just arrogant enough to actually appeal to the business mogul. They were both driven and conceited in a self-confident way. _They should be perfect for each other, _Lane thought smugly. Jack was only too happy, also, to make sure that he asked enough questions and demanded enough research from the ad exec to keep Kinney busy for at least the good part of a week. And the fact that Belden no doubt would find Kinney attractive couldn't hurt, either; that might help to keep Kinney occupied just a little longer.

But Lane was NOT happy to discover from his detective that Kinney had not only installed a state-of-the-art security system and web cameras around the loft, he had also obtained a private security detail to watch over his lover while he was away. _Damn that son of a bitch! How DARE he spoil my plans? _Now, even though Justin was becoming more willing to roam outside the confines of the loft, his every move was now being watched by some fucking armed babysitters. Lane would just have to do something about that little problem...….

* * *

"Everwatch Security."

"Is this Mr. Keller?"

"Yes, that's right. May I help you?"

"Yes, Mr. Keller. My name is Ted Schmidt. I'm the comptroller for Kinnetik. Brian is out of town on business, as you know. He's been tied up in meetings all day, but he just called me on a short break and asked me to make this call for him."

Lee heard the man on the line clearing his throat. "Yes, I know, Mr. Schmidt. Mr. Kinney gave me an assignment just before he left that he indicated might last for a week until he got back."

"Yes, that's correct, Mr. Keller. Actually, that's what I'm calling about. He wanted me to apologize for the inconvenience, but he told me to advise you that he is cancelling the assignment, effective immediately. It seems Mr. Taylor found out what he was doing and is extremely angry about it. He insisted Mr. Kinney cancel the security detail, or he threatened to move out of the loft they share. Mr. Kinney instructed me to assure you that he will still pay for any time and expenses your men have incurred."

Lee chuckled. "I understand. I'm never met him, but from what Brian's told me, Justin is a very independent man. That's why Brian was so insistent that everything be kept hush-hush while he was gone. How did Justin find out, then?"

The man on the phone smiled. He anticipated this question would be asked. "It seems a friend of Justin's is very observant. TOO observant. Brian told me she came to visit him this morning and noticed a strange man, as she put it, loitering outside around the building. This man, who turned out to be one of your security personnel, wasn't told about her and, therefore, evidently didn't hide his presence from her very well. She told Justin and he must have figured it out, because when he spoke to Mr. Kinney earlier today, he totally erupted in anger and told him in no uncertain terms that he was being completely paranoid, and that he would not tolerate being babysat while he was gone. I'm sure you can understand the situation."

Lee replied smoothly, "Of course. If I may please have the cancellation code, I will take care of it immediately."

"Certainly," the man replied confidently. "The cancellation code is _Sunshine._"

"Thank you, Mr. Schmidt. Please tell Brian to keep us in mind the next time he needs any security work done."

"I will," the man assured him. "Thank you again for your assistance in this matter."

As the man ended his conversation, Lane smiled. "Good work, Kingsley. You even had ME fooled that you really worked for that asshole. It's amazing what a little phone bug and some undercover detective work will reap in dividends, isn't it?"

"Always glad to be of assistance, Mr. Prescott," the man replied, as he accepted the thick envelope offered to him. _Good old American cash – the perfect spending_ _money_, he thought to himself smugly.

As the detective left the rented penthouse, Lane breathed a sigh of relief. _At last. I have Kinney out of the way and Justin right where I need him to be. It's time to launch the next part of my plan. Soon, Angel, soon._


	9. Chapter 9: False Sense of Security

Daphne flopped down on the couch in the loft. "Back where we started, at the scene of the crime," she chuckled. "Except now I am STUFFED! Why did I let you talk me into that double dip sundae? I must have been out of my mind after eating all that shit at the buffet! Taylor, you're a BAD influence on me!" In a perfect imitation of a certain redhead they both knew and loved, she smacked her friend on the side of the head.

"Hey!" Justin mockingly grumbled, as he sat down beside her. "Admit it – you fucking loved every minute of my company today!"

"My friend – the humble one," she proclaimed. "Speaking of humble ones, have your called his Royal High and Mighty yet? Aren't you overdue for your evening check-in, Mr. Taylor?"

"Shit! I almost forgot! I turned off the cell phone when we were in the movie theater!" Pulling out his cell phone and turning it on, he grimaced as he immediately noticed he had four messages waiting for him. And it didn't take a genius to immediately determine who they were from. Justin frowned. "This isn't going to be pretty," he warned his friend.

"Well, spare me the gory details," Daphne replied, standing up and yawning. "In fact, I need to get going. I've got a class first thing tomorrow and I haven't even cracked open a book yet. I TOLD you what a bad influence you are," she repeated, although her smile contradicted her statement. "Tell _Simba_ I said hello after he's done chewing you a new one for not calling him sooner."

"Thanks for the support, Daph," Justin answered, giving her a little push, as he, too, stood to join her. "Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out," he said, laughing. "On second thought, I'd better lock it behind you. I've already given _Simba_ enough ammunition for one night."

Once Daphne had left, Justin made sure the door was locked and the alarm system set. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he pressed the speed dial button for his partner. The phone had barely registered a ring when he heard a rush of words gushing out angrily in a torrent. "Where the HELL have you been? Don't you know how fucking worried I've been about you? I've left you FOUR messages, Justin. Why the fuck did you have your phone turned off? What part of checking in twice a day do you NOT understand?"

The blond winced. Yeah, definitely NOT pretty. "I'm SORRY, Brian. Daphne and I went out to the movies today and I forgot to turn my cell back on afterward. I'm sorry, really," Justin said soothingly. "I didn't mean to make you worried," he continued softly. "I'm fine. I'm back at the loft and I have all the doors locked and the security system on."

Brian let out a deep huff of air, trying to release the extreme stress he had been feeling all day. He had talked to Justin this morning, and then met with Belden for several hours discussing the man's thoughts on a new ad campaign. The powerful businessman had turned out to be a total prick; he was proving extremely difficult to please. None of the ideas Brian had brought with him had proven to be the least bit acceptable to the multinational tycoon. Brian could see now why the arrogant SOB had fired the last three advertising agencies. He was determined, however, NOT to be the fourth. He was resolved to stay there until he signed Belden on with his agency. There was just no other acceptable outcome.

After grabbing a quick dinner and returning to his hotel room, he had anxiously waited for Justin to call this evening at 7:00 as they had arranged. When the time had come and gone, he had tried every hour on the half hour since then to call the artist with no luck. If he hadn't known the security detail was following his partner's every move, he would have called Horvath personally to go find him and he would have jumped on the first available plane back to the Pitts, even if he had to HIRE one. He knew how Justin resented his protectiveness at times, but he was just about to seriously think of doing something drastic when Justin had finally called him back. He closed his eyes and fought to calm his nerves before speaking again. He couldn't believe how this man had turned his life upside down. _Little shit certainly keeps me on my toes,_ he thought ruefully. But he had to admit to himself, _I wouldn't have it any other way. _

Brian's voice was more under control the next time he continued sternly, "Justin, you have to think about what you're doing. This isn't a game, Sunshine. That cell phone is extra insurance. You have to be careful. DON'T turn it off from now on, you understand? I don't care if you DO piss off a fucking movie critic, you got it?" Brian tried hard to maintain a harsh demeanor in his voice, but he never could stay mad at his lover for long. _Unfortunately, my favorite way of making up is out of the question tonight._ He felt himself grow hard just at the idea of making love to his partner again. _It's going to be a LONG fucking week._

"I AM sorry, Brian," Justin repeated soothingly. "I promise – I'll keep the cell phone on, no matter HOW many little old ladies I piss off at the theater." His voice abruptly dropped an octave as he pleaded in a sexier tone, "Can't we think of a better way to spend the rest of our time than debating proper phone etiquette?" he purred.

Brian smiled now. "I think we can think of something, don't you, Sunshine? Why don't you go lie down and get comfortable? I'm sure it will COME to you…."

Justin blushed. Even now, after all this time, his lover still had the same effect on him, as well as certain parts of his anatomy. "Oh, it's coming, all right," he answered. Giggling, he hurried to obey as he eagerly walked into the bedroom, cell phone clutched tightly in his hand.

* * *

Justin was startled out of a wonderful dream about Brian when he heard the incessant ringing of his cell phone. After speaking with Brian last night, he was going to make sure he kept his phone on permanently; he didn't want a replay of his partner's lecture again. _Although the phone sex afterward was pretty incredible,_ he thought grinning, thinking fondly about jerking off to his partner's sexy commands last night before falling asleep into a somewhat fitful slumber. He always had trouble sleeping when his lover wasn't curled up next to him, the long arm draped around his waist protectively.

Spotting his phone on the bedroom dresser, he dragged himself up and stumbled over to answer it. "Hello?" he replied, somewhat groggily.

"Mr. Taylor?" Justin thought the voice was somewhat familiar, but in his half-drowsy state, his mind couldn't readily identify it. "It's Vince Comisar. Did I wake you?"

Justin glanced at the clock, noticing to his mortification that it was 9:00 already; he had meant to get up earlier to continue working on his painting for this important new client.

"No, Mr. Comisar, not at all," he reassured him; somehow, he didn't think it would sound too impressive to the influential man if he knew he had roused Justin from his bed. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was just checking on the status of your first painting. Do you still think you'll have it finished by the end of the week? The first restaurant I'm remodeling is about ready for reopening, and I really want to have your painting prominently displayed in the lobby when it opens."

Justin's heart beat excitedly; this was going to be such a great opportunity. He couldn't believe his good fortune. If the first painting was received positively, he felt confident the rest would be as well, not to mention the invaluable publicity Mr. Comisar had promised to provide for him with each piece he displayed.

"Don't worry, sir, I'm sure I'll have it done within the next few days. I'd say I've got about 75% of it completed already," he advised confidently. "May I ask where this restaurant is located?" Justin was very curious to learn where his first painting was going to be displayed, although he had read enough about Comisar's properties to know that each restaurant was very exclusive.

"Oh, I didn't tell you, did I? The first restaurant I'm remodeling is actually the first one I opened originally; it's called "Chez Laurent," and it's located in Lancaster. By the way, Mr. Taylor, I know we hadn't really discussed this, but I'm hoping you will agree to personally oversee the placement of this painting once you finish it. I've invested a great deal of time and money in this renovation, and it's important to me that everything be put in its proper place. I think with your artistic eye, you're the perfect advisor for dictating where the painting should best be displayed. I will, of course, pay all your expenses to do this, as well as consider it a great favor if you would agree." He waited expectantly for an answer.

Justin briefly hesitated. He had a feeling Brian would not be happy with this new development, in light of how protective he had been lately, but he felt there was no way he could decline Mr. Comisar's request. The man, after all, was investing a great deal in Justin's artwork, and, if the restaurateur's previous success was any indication, it could provide a tremendous boost to his career. And it was extremely important to Justin that he be able to contribute his fair share toward the loft's expenses and upkeep.

"Of course," he finally said in as reassuring a voice as possible. _Brian doesn't have to know. He will just get unduly upset if he finds out about this._ Justin thought he could finish his painting in the next day or so, and fly over to Lancaster shortly thereafter. With any luck, he would have it all finished well before Brian gets back. Continuing his conversation, he advised, "I think I'll have the painting done either today or tomorrow. Should I give you a call once it's done?"

"That would be great, Mr. Taylor," the man enthusiastically replied. "I'll have my private jet on standby so hopefully we can get the painting displayed by this weekend. I would also appreciate it if you would prepare a short biographical paper providing some details about yourself and your studio. My personal assistant can use this information to help create the informational panel I'll be displaying next to each of your works."

Justin smiled; if all goes well, this should prove to be a very lucrative arrangement, indeed. "Sounds good," he agreed. "I'll give you a call as soon as it's ready, sir. Thank you for your confidence in me," he said politely.

"I'm sure my confidence will be well-placed," he answered. "I've already seen your work at the studio. As long as you continue in the same vein, I should be very pleased. I'll be waiting for your call, Mr. Taylor."

As Justin ended his conversation with Comisar, his mind was already taking an internal survey of what supplies he needed to complete his painting; hurriedly slipping on a nearby pair of jeans and a long-sleeved tee shirt, he rushed out to the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat before walking downstairs to resume his work.

* * *

"Lane? It's Vince."

"Ah, bon jour, mon ami? How did it go?"

Vince smiled. "Just fine. You certainly must be enamored with our little artist, my friend. Although, I can certainly see why. He IS a beautiful man. He's supposed to call me when he gets his painting done. He told me it will probably be in a day or so."

Lane was jubilant. Finally. The time was fast approaching, and that arrogant Kinney was out of the picture for the time being. "Wonderful. I owe you big time, Vince. You WILL call me as soon as he contacts you?"

"Of course. And don't think I won't collect," the other man laughed. "I'll no doubt be the best-dressed man in Pennsylvania by the time I get done with you, buddy."

"Count on it, my friend. That will be a small price to pay, believe me, if I get what I want out of it."

As he hung up with his childhood friend, Lane's thoughts drifted once again to the man who had consumed his dreams every night since he had first met him over a year ago; finally, all his hard work was paying off. He would have the chance to convince Justin that the two of them belonged together; he simply had to get his Angel alone to prove that to him. He smiled as he excitedly anticipated their pending reunion. For the first time in a long while, Lane slept well that night.


	10. Chapter 10: Deception

Justin always felt he worked best under pressure, and this time was no exception. He had already tentatively sketched out the shell of the painting before he had begun in earnest; now, as he brushed the final touches on, he stood back to observe the finished result. _I hope Mr. Comisar will be pleased,_ he fretted. He was very satisfied with the final product; it was a watercolor landscape of a French countryside, with a stone cottage perched on a hillside overlooking the lush valley below. _Not exactly what I would call my standard edgy work, _he thought, smirking; that was more his own personal style. But he was confident it was what Mr. Comisar wanted for his restaurant, and if he could derive more business as a result, it would be worth it.

Brushing off his paint-spattered hands on an old rag nearby, he realized it was just about time for his evening check-in with the _Lord of the Jungle._ Laughing softly to himself, he reached into his pocket for the phone, just as it started ringing. _Well, if it isn't Simba himself. _"Yes, Oh King of the Asphalt Jungle?" he answered jokingly.

"What the fuck? Do you have all the doors locked and the alarm on?"

"Yes, Simba," he assured him, hastily explaining, "Inside joke." He cleared his throat to change the subject. "How's the pitching going? Has he succumbed to the great Kinney charm yet?"

"Not quite," his partner growled, "I'm STRIKING out! The man's being a total ass. He doesn't like anything I've shown him so far." He explained, "It was a lot easier when I could just fuck the shit out of the guy to help _persuade _him. You sure do make things a lot more complicated now, Sunshine," Brian continued, this time with a decidedly more tender tone. Despite Brian's attempt at acting irritated, Justin saw right through him. Since he and Justin had moved in together at the Blackbird loft, Brian had been making a concerted effort to stay faithful only to his partner; although, it was times like this that proved to be a major test of his willpower.

"And you wouldn't have it any other way, would you?" Justin asked tentatively, rousing Brian from his musing.

"Maybe," Brian conceded grudgingly. "But it sure makes it lonely here when you can't use the standard M.O. to ease your tensions, if you know what I mean."

"Don't I know it," Justin answered, relieved. "It works both ways, you know." Justin sighed – he hadn't slept well since Brian had left, and he was growing extremely frustrated. Phone sex while you were jerking off could only go so far – he needed the REAL deal. "Any idea when you'll be coming back?" he asked hopefully.

Brian let out a long breath; Justin could envision him brushing back his somewhat shaggy auburn hair from his forehead with his long fingers, mirroring his own frustration. "I wish I could tell you, Sunshine. The man just won't budge – claims he's heard and seen it all before. Nothing seems to interest the man."

"Well, then, he MUST be straight, because no man could resist your charms, Mr. Kinney," Justin purred.

"Justin, don't DO that!" Brian entreated. "You're just making me even more fucking frustrated!" Trying to change the subject to something more impersonal in an attempt to will his body to calm down, he queried, "How's your painting coming along? Did you get that one done for the dance studio yet?"

"Yeah, actually I got it done a few days ago, and they've already come and picked it up; I've already gotten my bonus for getting it done on time," he told his partner proudly.

"Good for you, Sunshine," Brian encouraged him. "I knew my little Picasso could do it."

Justin beamed at the compliment as he heard a loud yawn suddenly interrupt Brian's part of the conversation. "Tired, Mr. Advertising Genius?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, I guess I am. I haven't been sleeping very well without my favorite _blanket_ to keep my warm and my favorite _physical activity_ to wear me out before bedtime," he chided softly, sounding suddenly like a petulant, pouting child.

Justin's body, though, instantly responded to his lover's caressing tone. "Well, I know the long distance method isn't the best, but maybe I could tell you a bedtime story to help you get to sleep, Mr. Kinney. It's most effective if you're lying down and naked, though," he instructed the older man teasingly.

Brian groaned. _What this man could do to him, even on the phone!_ Aloud, he coaxed, "Well, do your best, Sunshine. Have your way with me, then." He didn't have to get undressed; he had already taken care of that obstacle before he called. _No sense in wasting time_. Smiling, he wedged his phone in the crook of his neck and listened intently to the commands coming from his lover's seductive voice.

* * *

It was fortunate that Justin had decided to wait until the following morning to call Mr. Comisar with the good news that he had finished the first painting for his restaurant; after all, a certain hazel-eyed man had kept him occupied until well after 2:00 a.m. last night.

Donning a dark maroon, pullover sweater to finish dressing, he picked up the phone number the restaurateur had provided to him.

"Triangle Enterprises, Ms. Calhoun speaking."

"Hello, this is Justin Taylor. May I speak with Mr. Comisar, please?"

"Of course, Mr. Taylor, he has been expecting your call. Just a moment, please," his assistant answered politely.

There was only a momentary wait before Comisar picked up the phone. "Justin! I'm hoping your call means you've got some good news for me."

"Yes, sir. I've finished the first painting, and it's ready to be framed. Do you still want me to take it to the framer I mentioned to you when we first met? He's done a lot of work for me, and has a good eye for what works best with my style," he advised the man.

"Of course. You already know what type of material and design for the frame, and you know the color theme for the first restaurant. Can he get it framed right away? I'll gladly pay the man a premium if necessary just to get it back immediately. I really want to be able to hang it up this weekend."

"Yes, I've already given him a heads up that it's a rush job, and he knows I'll be coming in this morning. He said he will put everything else on hold so he can get it framed today. I should have it back late tonight. He's going to stay open until he gets it done, and then call me when it's ready."

"Wonderful!" the man exclaimed. "Let me give you my cell number – you can call me tonight when you get the painting back. In the meantime, I'll give my pilot the heads up that he needs to have my jet ready first thing in the morning for the flight to Lancaster. Will that be agreeable to you?"

Justin was anxious to get the painting delivered and get back before Brian returns. "Yes," he said without hesitation. "That will be fine. The sooner the better, actually. I have plans later this weekend." _At least, I HOPE I will_, he thought fervently.

"Very good," Comisar answered. "I will be waiting for your call, then." Disconnecting from the call, Vince immediately dialed a familiar number to deliver the good news his friend had been waiting for. "Your little artist will be on my jet tomorrow morning heading to Lancaster. I'll call you later tonight once I know the exact time." Laughing, he added, "Better get the tailor ready to adjust my new wardrobe. I'm expecting one of each piece after pulling THIS off."

Lane smiled. "No problem. Your job is to just get him there. Leave the rest up to me."

"I must say, Lane, I'm impressed. You're really going all out for this man. He IS beautiful, but why him, particularly? With your looks and your money, you could have any fucking guy you want. Or should I say you could BE fucking any guy you want. You're not the kind of man to do the pursuing."

"I know. But he's the ONE. I can't get him out of my mind," he confided in his friend. "He's not only beautiful, but he's intelligent, creative, and romantic," he continued enthusiastically. "And I like a challenge. He's one of the few men that haven't tripped all over themselves trying to get me to notice them. Of course, he doesn't NEED to. But when I get done, he won't be able to say no to me," he advised confidently. "You DO remember what I need for you to do tomorrow, right?" he asked his friend somewhat anxiously.

"Yes, yes, I remember. I only hope this guy appreciates what you're doing for him."

"Oh, he will, I'm sure. How can he say no?" he asked his friend, eliciting a laugh from him.

* * *

Justin picked at his French toast on his plate; absentmindedly swirling it in the syrup.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" his friend asked him. "You're not eating. That is SO not like you, baby," he said kiddingly.

He smiled at Emmett wistfully. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Deb will have my balls if she notices I'm not eating every bite of the breakfast special. Ever since Brian and I moved to Lawrenceville, she thinks he's not feeding me enough. Says he's _exercising_ me to death, if you know what I mean."

"Well, I'm sure he's just trying to keep those pesky little carbs from invading his man's luscious bubble butt," Em kidded him. "So why are you so glum looking all of a sudden?"

Justin sighed. "I have to go out of town for a day or so to deliver a painting on commission to that client I told you about, and Brian doesn't know I'm going. If he finds out, he's going to be PISSED."

"So why aren't you telling him, Sweetie?"

"Em, you know how overbearing he's been ever since that secret admirer starting sending those gifts. He's practically got me on lock down most of the day, and I'm having to report in morning and night. If he finds out I have to go out of TOWN for my work, then, he's going to blow his top! I love Brian, but he's completely blown this whole situation out of proportion. I'm hoping I can get this painting delivered and back before he even knows I'm gone. I talked to him last night, and he doesn't think he'll be back from Chicago until at least Monday. I'll just keep calling him twice a day from my cell, and he won't know the difference. I'll be back in no time," he assured his friend.

But Em was still concerned. "Baby, do you really that's wise? I mean, didn't you tell me the two of you are trying to build your relationship on trusting each other? How's he going to feel if he finds out you lied to him about where you were this weekend?"

Justin averted his eyes, looking guilty. "I know, Em. I don't feel good about it. But he's being way too overprotective right now; I had to fight tooth and nail just to get him to agree to "spring me from jail" during the day while he's been gone," he said somewhat defensively. "It's just a day or so. I'll be back by tomorrow sometime, I promise. I just have to accompany the buyer to his restaurant and give him my opinion on where I think the painting should be placed. Once that's done, I'll come right back. He's flying me up on his private jet," he said, explaining.

Em knew his friend wasn't going to be dissuaded. "So when do you leave - this morning?" Em asked, stealing a bite of Justin's French toast from the blond's plate.

"Yeah, Mr. Comisar's going to pick me up here in about a half-hour. That's why I had to meet you so early this morning," he explained.

"Comisar? The name DOES sound kind of familiar," Emmett said a little puzzled, trying to remember where he had heard that name before.

"VINCE Comisar. That's the big restaurant mogul I told you about," Justin explained. "He and his restaurants have been featured in several newspapers and magazines over the last few months, especially. Remember – he's the guy who's currently remodeling several restaurants he owns across the state, and he commissioned me to create a painting for each of them," Justin reminded his friend excitedly.

"Oh, yeah, NOW I remember! When I started getting into the party planning big time, I saw his name in a bunch of write-ups in the catering magazines I looked at – his restaurants are all very _fancy schmancy_." Batting his eyelashes, he asked pleadingly, "Couldn't you take pity on a dear friend and bring me back some appetizer goodie bags?"

Justin laughed. "Em, the restaurant hasn't even reopened yet! Maybe if you're a good boy, though, I can wheedle an invitation to a future dinner out of the guy."

"Ooh, sounds good." He paused several seconds before he realized something. "Sweetie, if you and this guy are flying there, just WHERE is there? I mean, I know downtown rush-hour traffic can be a bitch, but, really…."

Justin giggled. "No, we're not going the George Jetson route. The restaurant's in Lancaster. Not sure exactly how long it will take to fly there, but surely it won't take too long, since it's in the same state….....I think. Just where is Lancaster?" he asked, puzzled.

Em laughed. "I'm not sure, Sweetie." Looking thoughful, though, he asked, "Don't they have a lot of Amish people there? Maybe you're traveling by buggy, instead. But don't worry – you can take your GPS and attach it to the horse's bridle." Justin rolled his eyes.

His friend stood up, slapping a $10 bill on the table. "Must be off; got to go work off some of YOUR French toast. Be careful out there in that big, bad world, baby," he admonished the blonde affectionately, giving his friend a peck on the check as he rushed out of the diner with a short wave.

"Bye, Em," Justin answered, returning his friend's wave. He remained seated at the counter stool for several minutes, impatiently awaiting Mr. Comisar's limo that would take him to the airport for the short flight to Lancaster. Finally, he spied a long, sleek black limousine slowing down and stopping in front of the diner. Walking outside to meet his client, he hoped that everything would go smoothly so he could fulfill his agreement with the restaurateur and return promptly to Pittsburgh to anxiously await Brian's return.


	11. Chapter 11: The Epiphany

Brian's patience has run out, somewhere around the 10th advertising pitch he had submitted to that arrogant man, Belden. Despite his admittedly self-diagnosed brilliant ideas, nothing seemed to impress this man. Not too long ago, this kind of challenge would have been met stubbornly until nothing but a signed agreement had been obtained. But surprisingly, the Brian Kinney of the present had finally decided that maybe it wasn't all so fucking important that all battles be won. Maybe his attitude had started to change around the time he had to battle more important issues: the cancer, getting fired, losing all his possessions. Because a strange thing happened when all that came crashing down on him. He found out what really meant the most of all: his friends, his son, and most importantly, Justin. Yes, the successful ad exec had finally realized what really meant the most to him, and amazingly, it WASN'T winning over every potential client he encountered.

So after waging yet another unsuccessful campaign to win over this unyielding, smug asshole, Brian did something astonishing: he decided to pack up his toys and go home. He wanted nothing more than to fly back to Pittsburgh and surprise his partner with a night alone at the loft, just the two of them in each other's arms, fucking each other's brains out – in their bed, the shower, the couch, and anywhere else the mood struck them.

Feeling the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders, he stuffed the remainder of his clothes into his leather tote and picked up the hotel phone to inform the front desk he was checking out. He smiled in anticipation of his partner's reaction at seeing him back early. _Well, better rest up now, Sunshine, because when I get home, you'll be getting a thorough workout._ Since he had already spoken to Justin earlier today, he determined he could make it back home to the loft just in time before they were supposed to talk again. _Perfect timing. _His heart beat faster at the thought of seeing his lover soon. He eagerly picked up his luggage as he walked out of the hotel room toward the elevators.

* * *

"So, Justin, have you ever been to Lancaster?"

Looking sheepish, Justin admitted, "I'm afraid I don't know much about it. I remember seeing an old movie with Harrison Ford in it and a lot of Amish people there. That's about all I know, I'm afraid."

Vince chuckled. "Yeah, I get that from a lot of people. Everyone thinks that's all there is in Lancaster – Amish people riding around in horse and buggies. Don't get me wrong – there IS a large population of Amish living there. But Lancaster is a very contemporary city in a lot of other ways, and the fact that it's not seen as a very cosmopolitan area is actually an advantage to me. There aren't a lot of fine dining establishments in Lancaster as a result, so I've been able to pretty much corner the market there when it comes to more expensive cuisine. There's not a lot of competition, shall we say. All to the good for me, though. It certainly doesn't hurt profits one bit," he confided, winking at his flying companion.

Justin smiled. Despite his initial nervousness at accompanying the powerful man on his jet, the older man was very adept at making him feel at ease. He had a dry wit and had a wealth of information about epicurean trends and Pennsylvania culture in general. Justin found himself fascinated by some of the quirky facts he divulged about several of the cities where his restaurants were located, and he was only too willing to share this knowledge with the artist. He was also very informative about what he thought were some very unique spots throughout the state that he felt Justin should take advantage of for his painting. Justin spent quite a bit of time during the flight jotting down each of the suggestions for scenic vistas that Comisar gave to him. He made a mental note to do some more in-depth research regarding those locations when he got back from this trip.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Comisar has gushed over the painting and the way it had been framed. He practically bubbled with excitement, affirming to Justin that the painting would go perfectly in his newly-remodeled restaurant. He was thankful, though, that the artist had agreed to accompany him, as it was extremely important to the fastidious man that everything was situated just right in his restaurants. He fervently believed that not only did the quality of food determine a successful eating establishment, but also the ambiance and décor.

Justin was eager to see the man's newly-remodeled restaurant; he also hoped to establish the right location for his painting rather promptly, so he could complete his commitment and head back to Pittsburgh in time to meet Brian at the airport when he returned. He still felt guilty about leaving without Brian's knowledge, but he knew how worried his partner would be if he knew he had left town, even if it was for a business reason. He only hoped Brian would understand when he explained to him.

"Justin?" His thoughts just then were interrupted by his escort, who was returning from the cockpit after speaking with his pilot. "Scotty told me we should be in Lancaster shortly. I hope you don't mind – since it's close to lunch time, I arranged for my chef at the restaurant to prepare a light lunch for us. Actually, you'll be doing me a favor. This is a new chef, and he could use the practice on some guinea pigs before we reopen," he added, smiling. "I know you're anxious to get back to Pittsburgh, but would you mind sticking around just a little longer afterward for lunch? He can have it prepared while we discuss the placement of your painting, and I'll make sure we depart immediately after we're finished eating. Okay by you?"

Justin sighed inwardly, masking his disappointment that he couldn't leave more quickly; however, he realized he would need to eat somewhere, and it didn't sound like it would take too long. Besides, a free French meal didn't exactly sound distasteful, he thought realistically. _Just wait until Emmett hears this – he'll be so jealous._"That sounds fine, Mr. Comisar," Justin answered. I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"Good," the restaurateur replied. "And call me Vince. I'll have the pilot call the chef to advise – these damn cell phones aren't worth a crap on this jet – too much interference. If you'll excuse me for a minute," he said, disappearing once again toward the cockpit area.

Comisar's mention of his cell phone made Justin slightly panic, for he suddenly realized he had forgotten to even BRING his cell phone with him; he had been in such a hurry rushing to the diner to meet with Em for breakfast, he had ran out of the loft without it. He had already checked in with Brian before breakfast, so thankfully he wouldn't be expecting another call until later this evening. Justin was sure he could either make it back in time for the call, or at worst he could borrow Comisar's phone to call him, so he wasn't overly concerned at the moment.

As soon as he knew he was out of earshot and beyond Justin's sight, Comisar quickly flipped open his cell phone and dialed a familiar number. "Listen, I don't have much time to talk. We're about to land. Everything's arranged on this end. We should be at the restaurant around 12:30 or so."

"Good," Lane replied. "I'll take care of the rest of the details here. I owe you big time, buddy. You don't know how much I appreciate this. Leave the rest to me."

"Oh, don't worry," his friend replied. "I've already got my date with the tailor," he added jokingly before flipping the phone shut.

* * *

Brian was never so relieved to get off a plane; he was glad he only had a carry-on to lug from his seat to the long-term parking area and his 'Vette. Fortunately for him, the guys from the art department had been left the unwelcome task of dragging all the other supplies out of the baggage claim area and back to the agency.

As he eased his long legs into the car, he thought briefly about calling Justin to let him know he was back, but not wanting to spoil the surprise, he decided against it. Instead, as soon as he was out of the terminal parking area, he picked up his cell phone to call Lee Keller with Ever Watch Security; he could still check on Justin without him knowing he was back.

"Lee? Hi, it's Brian."

"Brian? Back from your trip early?"

"Yeah, I finished up what I needed to do. How's the situation around the loft? Everything quiet?"

Puzzled, Keller asked, "I'm not sure what you mean. I did as you instructed me to do. My men haven't been at the loft for a couple of days now."

"What the FUCK are you talking about? What do you mean, _as I instructed you to do_?"

"You told your assistant to call me and cancel the security detail. You said your partner had found out about and was pissed. I don't understand – what's going on?"

"That's what I'D like to know!" Brian was close to exploding. "I did NO SUCH THING! Who called and cancelled it? Fuck!"

"It was some assistant of yours….I think he said he was your comptroller? Smith maybe?"

"Ted Schmidt?"

"Yeah, that's the name. He called and said you wanted to cancel immediately. He even had the correct cancellation code. Are you saying you did NOT tell him to call and cancel?"

"You're fucking right I DIDN'T!" Brian's fury made his face redden. Under any other circumstances, the next words out of his mouth would have been a not-so-polite confirmation that the man had just been fired from any further security details; however, his extreme worry for his partner outweighed any such concerns at the moment. "I'll talk to you LATER," he snarled as he abruptly snapped the phone shut. He took a few seconds to breathe before opening it back up open and quickly pressing the speed dial key for Justin's cell.

The phone rang twice before he heard his partner's voicemail message. He could barely control himself as he desperately waited for the tone to begin speaking. "Shit!" He yelled into the phone. "Where ARE you? I TOLD you to leave your phone on! Please! Call me as soon as you get this message!"

His heart beating rapidly as all kinds of terrible scenarios played out in his mind, Brian dialed Ted at Kinnetik.

"Brian! The guys from the art department just called me and said you were back. Listen, I'm sorry it…."

"Ted!" Brian snarled. "Shut the fuck up and LISTEN to me! Did you call Keller at Ever Watch and cancel the security detail I had at the loft?"

"No, Brian. I didn't call anyone. I didn't even know you HAD security staked out at the loft. Why?"

"Have you seen Justin since I left?" The brunet could not disguise his mounting concern.

"No, I'm sorry, Brian, I haven't. I've been so busy here at the agency while you've been gone."

Brian was about to snap the phone shut in total frustration when Ted mentioned something that made his blood run cold. "Brian, before you go, there was a letter delivered by a special courier a little while ago. Had your name and Kinnetik's on it, but no return address. The man who gave it to me said to make sure you read it as soon as possible, and then just abruptly walked out. What's going on?"

Brian's hands clenched on the steering wheel. Forcing himself to remain calm, he took a deep breath before telling his assistant, "Open it up and read it to me."

He could barely control his patience as he heard the envelope being slit open and the paper being unfolded. "Ted! What does it SAY?"

"I don't get it, Brian," the man said, confusion plainly registering in his voice. "It says, _I told you I don't stop until I get what I want. He's where he belongs now." _And in that moment, Brian had a total epiphany as he replayed a conversation he had had over a year ago with a certain pompous, cocky businessman:

* * *

"_I didn't get this far in the fashion business by being timid. If I wanted something, I went after it until I got it. The same goes for my personal life. If I want something, I don't stop until I get it. And I WANT him. More than I've ever wanted any other man. And I won't quit until I have him completely – mind, body, and soul. "_

* * *

"Oh, my God. Prescott." Suddenly, everything made perfect sense. How could he have been so stupid? The expensive gifts, the very personal writing, it all had the earmarks of that arrogant son of a bitch who was so enamored of Justin last year. How could he have forgotten the obvious?

"What did you say, Brian?" Brian momentarily forgot he still had Ted on the line.

"Never mind, Ted. Keep the paper there. Whatever you do, do NOT throw it away!"

"Okay, sure. Is everything all right?" Ted was totally befuddled by now.

"No, Ted, everything is NOT all right," Brian replied, wearily. He snapped the phone shut as his hands trembled on the steering wheel. _This cannot be happening. Justin. Where ARE you?_


	12. Chapter 12: Deja Vu

Justin watched as all types of workers scurried around the outside of the _Chez Laurent _restaurant. He admired the building's façade as Comisar's limo pulled up in front. The front of the building had been remodeled to resemble a French inn, complete with wrought iron railings on the 2nd story and window boxes ablaze with spring flowers. The double entrance doors were also adorned with the same scrolling, delicate wrought-iron design as the balcony. The artist admired how the restaurant was strategically placed in a scenic rise overlooking the Susquehanna River; he could see several expensive-looking craft docked at the adjacent marina. Justin thought it was the perfect setting for his painting, which was lying face up on the floor of the vehicle, carefully packaged in protective bubble wrap for transport to its new, permanent home.

As he and Comisar emerged from the limo, two of the workers approached to take careful possession of the painting. For a brief moment, Justin looked at the building again as if it were familiar somehow. He knew he couldn't have seen it before, though, because he had never been to Lancaster. Furrowing his brow, he tried to think why in the world he thought it looked familiar to him.

"Shall we go in?" Comisar interrupted his thoughts as he motioned toward the front of the establishment. "I can't wait to show you the inside and find out where you think the painting should go," he added, smiling encouragingly. Smiling politely in return, Justin allowed Comisar to lead him into the property.

* * *

Brian's mind was racing. He had already called Ted on the way to the loft to get Prescott's phone number at his corporate headquarters, and of course discovered the fucker wasn't there, nor would anyone offer any hint as to where he was. _Well, we'll just see about that._

While continuing to try Justin's cell number repeatedly to no avail, he had phoned Horvath and asked if he could meet him at the loft, explaining in cryptic detail that he had finally discovered who Justin's _secret admirer _was_. Fuck! I mean STALKER._ Brian's mind was in turmoil and his heart beat wildly as his now-white hands continued to tightly grasp the steering wheel. For a few seconds, he tormented himself with the thought of what Prescott might be doing to his lover. _If you have so much as harmed one hair on his head, so help me, you won't be taking another fucking breath when I get my hands around your neck. Sunshine, where are you? Justin, help me here._

Two police cars were parked in front of the loft when Brian came screeching to a halt by the front door; he had already given Carl the security alarm code and the keypad entrance code to access the loft. Flinging open the door, he took the steps two at a time, reaching the detective in record time.

"Anything?" he asked breathlessly as he saw Carl coming out of the bedroom area.

The man shook his head sympathetically. "Nothing looks out of place to me, and there's no sign of a struggle or anything." Holding out his hand, he asked the brunet, "Is this Justin's cell phone?"

Brian groaned. _Oh, No._ He didn't have to answer Carl for the man to know he was right. "Well, that explains why he's not answering his phone," the detective observed somewhat obviously. He turned back toward Brian as he asked, "You told me when you called that you had met this man before. If he IS responsible for Justin's disappearance, any idea where he might have taken him?"

Brian shook his head helplessly. "I only had a business relationship with him. Apart from knowing his corporate office is located in New York City, and that he's an arrogant, smug, obscenely rich S.O.B., I don't really know anything about him. What about the private jet I told you about?" Brian asked hopefully. He knew that Prescott had intended to whisk Justin away to New York City on his jet the last time he had been here.

"I checked that out already," Carl informed him. "My contact at LaGuardia informed me his jet is parked right where it normally is when he's not using it. It appears if he IS responsible, he didn't use the jet to do it."

Venting his frustration, he angrily demanded, "We're fucking wasting our time here! We need to find Justin, Carl! Surely there's SOMETHING you can suggest! I can't just sit here hoping Justin's going to show up on his own! I KNOW that asshole is responsible for his disappearance!"

"Calm down, Brian," the older man said in an attempt to placate him. "I know how worried you are. I'M worried, too, and I know Debbie's going to go out of her mind when she finds out. Look, I'll try calling Prescott's headquarters myself and see if I can make any headway. Why don't you call around to some of Justin's friends and see if they've seen him lately? Maybe one of them can give us a clue where he is."

Brian fucking HATED feeling so helpless, not knowing where the man he loved was, or what was happening to him. He felt like he was going to go out of his mind; he never knew he could feel so deeply for someone, or be as worried as he was right now. Sighing loudly in frustration, he nodded curtly at Carl as he flipped open his phone to start calling Justin's friends. At least he knew for the time being he wouldn't have to call Jennifer, because he remembered she and Tucker were in Florida on vacation with Justin's sister, Molly. He dreaded the call he might have to make to her if they didn't find Justin soon. But the dread he felt at possibly having to call her didn't nearly match the cold fear he felt in his heart over his missing lover, or the absolute deep, abiding hatred he kept bottled up toward the man he felt sure had Justin with him. _You don't know what you're doing, Prescott. And when I get done with you, you won't have a fucking brain left to care._

* * *

Justin walked slowly through the restaurant, admiring all the intricate details Comisar had insisted on including in the remodeling of his establishment. The restaurateur excitedly pointed out all the changes he had made, gesturing animatedly as he explained all the specific revisions he had made to help insure greater success for his venture.

"I'm really impressed, Vince," Justin exclaimed. "This is extremely chic. And I'm sure the painting you commissioned will go perfectly with the décor. In fact, I think I know the exact place for it."

"No, wait, let me guess," the man asked. "I'm hoping it's the same place I have in mind. Because if you ask me, there's only one place where it rightfully belongs." Calling over the two workers who were carefully holding the now-unwrapped painting, he motioned for them to follow him and Justin as he walked them out to the opulent lobby and stood right next to the valet station. "I think this is the wall, don't you?" he asked Justin, pointing to a large, unadorned area alongside an elaborate archway built adjacent to the banquet area.

Justin smiled broadly. "You read my mind, Vince. You must have been an artist yourself in a prior life. I agree totally."

The other man nodded and returned his smile. "Wonderful! I'm glad we agree. I can't think of a better place to do your fabulous piece justice. And there's a perfect spot right next to it where we can place the biographical plaque as I promised I would do for each of your paintings."

"Thank you," Justin replied. "I'm very glad you're pleased and that we agree on where it needs to be placed." Justin was also pleased, too, because it meant he would be able to return soon to Pittsburgh. He was eager to get back in time to meet Brian when he returned; he had missed his partner terribly.

"Well, I'm glad we have concluded the business portion, because now we can proceed to more pleasant activities. I hope you're hungry, because my chef assures me has concocted some outstanding dishes for lunch."

"I AM getting a little hungry," Justin admitted. He hadn't been very hungry this morning at breakfast, having been worried about the trip and not telling Brian about it, so he found himself suddenly feeling quite famished.

"Good. I hope you will thoroughly enjoy your lunch. However, I'm very sorry to tell you that due to some unexpected issues that have come up here at the restaurant, I'm not going to be able to join you. I hope you understand. But please, DO let my staff wait on you. My chef definitely needs to practice, and I want to repay you for your willingness to accompany me here. I have to stay in Lancaster for a few more days until the restaurant is up and running, but don't worry. I'll have my driver wait for you so he can take you back to my jet when you're done eating. The pilot has already been instructed to be ready for takeoff at your convenience."

Justin was anxious to get back to Brian; but truthfully, he WAS hungry and he knew it wouldn't take long to fly back to Pittsburgh. Besides, he felt it would make a better impression on Comisar if he was receptive to his wishes. "Of course I understand, Vince," Justin assured him. "And I will be more than willing to be one of your _guinea pigs_," he said smiling.

"Great. I will have my concierge, Henri, escort you to your table. We don't have all the eating areas completely ready yet, so I set up a table for you in the private dining room in the back. I didn't get a chance to show you that part of the restaurant, by the way." A tall, dark-haired man approached him and Justin as Vince motioned to get his attention. "Justin, this is Henri. I will place you in his most capable hands. I will also be in touch shortly to check on the status of my next painting. I can't wait to see what you come up with next! I hope you have an enjoyable lunch and a safe flight back." Waving to the blond, he turned back toward the front of the restaurant.

"If you would come with me, please, Mr. Taylor, I will show you to your table," the concierge instructed him in a smooth, slightly-accented tone, indicating with his arm that Justin should follow him toward the rear of the restaurant.

Justin continued to study the interior of the eatery, again feeling a certain and inexplicable familiarity somehow. Shaking his head slightly in confusion, he noticed Henri had stopped at a set of double, glass-paned doors that apparently led to the smaller dining room Vince had spoken about. The inside was hidden, however, by two louvered, fabric blinds, apparently placed there to help insure privacy for its diners.

As Justin waited for the concierge to open the doors, he was again abruptly accosted by an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu. The reason why he felt that way, and why the restaurant seemed so familiar somehow, immediately came rushing back to him as Henri opened the doors and he recognized the elegant, smiling man sitting at an intimate table set for two, a champagne bottle chilling in a silver bucket nearby. "Hello, Angel."


	13. Chapter 13: Danger

Brian looked up hopefully as Carl walked back into the great area of the loft after placing his call. "Well, I just got off the phone with Sylvia Broadwell, Prescott's executive assistant. Unfortunately, she clammed up tighter than the proverbial oyster. Says her boss is out of town on "business," and she cannot disclose anything further. And I can't get a search warrant issued just on the supposition that Prescott has something to do with Justin's disappearance."

Brian smacked his hand on the nearby coffee table in frustration, ignoring the sudden, stinging pain that occurred as a result. At that moment, his physical pain could in no way compare to the emotional pain he was currently feeling, anyway. So far, Brian had spoken with Daphne and Michael; Daphne had actually seen Justin yesterday, but he had not indicated anything was amiss, nor had he mentioned receiving any further gifts. In fact, he had seemed pretty carefree while he was with her.

He was about to make another desperate call when he heard a familiar voice just inside the loft's foyer. "Carl? Where are you? What the fuck is going on here? It looks they're shooting an episode of CSI outside!"

Carl sighed. He had called and left a message for Debbie to meet him here; he was not going to enjoy what he was about to tell his girlfriend. "Debbie – up here," he called out.

Debbie, followed by Emmett, bounded up the steps. Seeing the look on Brian's face, Debbie's own face turned pale. "What's happened?" she asked, looking from the brunet's face to Carl's. Emmett, too, noticed the haggard look on Brian's face. _Uh, oh. He wasn't supposed to be back this soon, according to Justin. What's going on here?_

"Em, Debbie, have either of you seen Justin?" Brian's pleading tone caught both of them off guard; it was so uncharacteristic of the normally cocky, confident voice they were accustomed to.

Emmett quickly spoke up; he realized Brian didn't know about Justin's trip and he had apparently blown everything out of proportion. _I TOLD you, baby, that you should have told him where you were going…._

"Brian, hold on. Did you call CARL because Justin is gone? Don't worry, he's okay," he said, trying to reassure the ad exec.

Jumping immediately on that statement, Brian said, "What do you mean, _he's okay_? EMMETT?" Brian grabbed the flamboyant man's shoulder a little too roughly as he stood up to face Em from inches away, demanding an explanation.

Emmett was startled by Brian's violent reaction and sighed; what a mess Justin had gotten himself into, all because he wasn't up front with Brian. He explained, "We had breakfast together at the diner this morning." Debbie nodded her head in agreement; she had seen the two together this morning and had spoken briefly to them. The diner had been packed for some reason during her shift, so she only had a chance to speak to them very briefly.

Before Brian had a chance to prod further, he continued, "Justin was all excited about a new painting he'd finished for a new commission. He said it was going to be a series of paintings he was doing for this big time mogul and all these restaurants he was remodeling. He asked Justin to go with him this morning to the first restaurant and give him an opinion on where the painting should be placed. Justin really didn't want to go, but he didn't dare disappoint this guy, because he said it would be a pretty lucrative deal," he offered in explanation to Brian.

Brian's head was spinning – at least they knew Justin was all right this morning, but what did this CLIENT have to do with anything? There had to be a connection here somewhere – it couldn't just be a coincidence that Justin was asked to go somewhere just as that fucker Prescott had his message delivered.

"Em? What was this guy's name?" Brian asked him urgently. "And did Justin mention where he was taking him?"

Emmett closed his eyes briefly, trying to concentrate. "Let me think – I know I've seen his name before in all kinds of magazines, because he's really into French cuisine…..It's kind of an unusual name, too…"

"Emmett! Come on! Think!" Brian's patience was non-existent now; he just knew they were running out of time.

"Hold on, I'm thinking….Give a boy some time!" Suddenly, Emmett's face lit up. "Comisar! Vince Comisar! That's it! He's very big in the restaurant industry. In fact, now that I think of it, George told me once that he owns the _La Masionette_ here in Pittsburgh." Emmett noticed a look of hatred suddenly appear on Brian's face at the mention of the restaurant. "That's the fancy five-star restaurant my honey took me to right after we first met." Emmett's face took on a wistful look as he recalled his former beau fondly. Frowning, he asked Brian, "What is GOING on? Justin said he'd be back either later tonight or tomorrow. He thought you wouldn't get back until sometime on Monday."

"I'll TELL you what's going on! That fucking restaurant is the SAME one that Prescott took Justin to as part of the bid for his painting! And now I just know he's taken him somewhere! We've got to find this Comisar and make him tell us where Justin is! Emmett! WHERE were they going? Do you know? Shit! We don't even know if they were going where they SAID they were going! We don't even know if that's the TRUTH now! They could be anywhere by now!" Brian was so angry and frustrated at this point his face was red and his forhead were sweating profusely.

"Oh, my God!" Debbie cried. Are you saying this Prescott person has KIDNAPPED Sunshine? How do you know? And why would he do such a thing?"

"I'll TELL you why," Brian snarled. "The fucker has been obsessed with Justin since the day he saw him, and I'm convinced he's behind all the expensive gifts Justin's been getting. And he's the one who sent me a note at Kinnetik today saying Justin's _where he belongs._ I'm telling you – he has got him somewhere, and if he touches ONE hair on his head, I'm going to fucking KILL that bastard!"

"Okay, okay, this isn't getting us anywhere," Carl said, trying to calm everyone down. "Emmett? Answer Brian's question – did Justin say where they were going?"

"Yeah, actually, he did, because I was kidding him about horse and buggies." Everyone looked at Emmett as if he were crazy, before he explained. "He said he was going to Lancaster, where all the Amish people live. THAT'S where he was going."

"Did he mention anywhere specific?" Carl queried.

"No, just the city, I'm afraid." Brian's look of desperation and dread was beginning to worry Emmett greatly. Could he be right about Justin being in danger? "I'm sorry, Brian, that's all I know."

"That's okay, Emmett," Carl said soothingly. "That's a big help at least. Listen, it shouldn't be too hard to figure out which restaurant this Comisar owns in Lancaster. Brian, can you pull his name up on the web and see what you can find out?"

Thankfully, the ad exec already had his laptop open and turned on. "Here it is!" Brian shouted, after a few seconds of searching. "It's called _Chez Laurent._ It's on Riverside Drive. Here's the address," he added, snatching a piece of paper off the nearby printer. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed a speed number. "Will! Where are you? Good, because don't go anywhere. I need you to prepare the jet for another trip. No, right NOW! This is an emergency! I'll be there in 15 minutes – we're flying to Lancaster! I don't fucking care what it costs in overtime – just do it!"

"Brian, what do you think you're doing? You can't go there! This is police business!" Carl advised him.

"The FUCK it is! You told me your hands were tied until you knew for sure that Justin was in danger! Well, I'm not going to sit around on my fucking hands until you decide for sure that it's a police matter! You do what you want – I'm going NOW before it's too late!"

Carl knew from the determined look on Brian's face that he would not be deterred, especially when his partner was concerned. Resigned to the inevitable, he sighed. "Okay. But you're not going alone. I'M going with you."

"And so are we," Emmett said forcefully, as Debbie nodded her head.

"Oh, no, you aren't," Carl replied vehemently. "This could be dangerous. We don't know what we're dealing with here. I'm having enough problems with Brian going. No, you are NOT going," he repeated, just before Debbie opened her mouth to no doubt voice the same opinion as Emmett. "Please," he beseeched the redhead. "Please stay here. I don't want to be having to worry about you, in addition to Justin."

It was obvious that neither Emmett nor Debbie liked or agreed with Carl's decision; however, they also did not want to run the risk of Justin somehow being placed in further danger, if in fact he WAS in trouble.

Finally conceding defeat, they both nodded in agreement glumly, just before Brian and Carl rushed out of the loft toward the airport.

* * *

Justin stood beside the now-open double doors, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. Wanting to turn around and run like hell out of the place, but too shocked and scared to move.

"Angel?" Lane's voice repeated his nickname for the blond softly as if he were saying a prayer. "You don't know how long I have been waiting to see you again. You have no idea how much I've missed you." Lane's eyes never left the blond, blue-eyed vision finally standing in front of him; he had anxiously waited so long for this moment. Justin looked even more captivating than he had remembered; Lane was totally enthralled as he held his breath. He did not want to somehow frighten his angel now that he was finally standing almost within reach of him. Just the thought of being able to touch him made his heart beat faster and his body tingle with excitement.

Justin continued to stand rooted to the spot, hoping he was just imaging the man in front of him, but he finally found his voice. "It was you? YOU sent me all those gifts?" he asked breathlessly, as he tried to calm himself.

Lane smiled affectionately at the younger man, as he gradually rose from his seat. He wanted so badly to touch the other man, to kiss him, to feel his arms around him again. "Yes, Angel, it was me," he admitted, slowly walking toward the other man. He did not want to frighten him, but his words came rushing out in a reverent torrent. "And I meant every word. Everything I said came from my heart. I haven't stopped thinking about you since the first day I saw you. I dream about you every night. I can't get you out of my mind, Justin. I still want to give you the world, if you will only let me," he added fervently. By now Lane was only a few feet away from Justin, still much too far away for his taste, but close enough to smell the other man's shampoo, soap, and other smells that were uniquely Justin's. He took a deep breath; he was totally intoxicated by the blond's mere proximity.

"Lane," Justin began, noticing the other man's pleased reaction at the sound of him saying his name. Justin was alarmed by the other man's intensity; this was not the pleasant, charming man he had met several months ago who had eventually given up on his hopes of them being together. Instead, the man he had remembered had somehow been transfigured into the driven, single-minded force now standing before him; a man who was obsessed with only one thing – him. Justin didn't dare do anything to make this man angry; he had no idea what he might be capable of. Justin realized with horror that he didn't know this man standing in front of him any longer, and it frightened him greatly.

"Come and sit with me, Angel," the dark-haired man said coaxingly, finally venturing to reach out and gently grasp Justin's left wrist; noticing Justin flinching at his touch, Lane chided, "Now, now, Angel, is that any way to treat your most fervent admirer? All I want is to spend some time with you. It's just a lunch. Please?" he pleaded.

Justin trembled at the other man's touch, forcefully having to stifle the response he really wanted to give the other man; unfortunately, Lane read Justin's trembling as excitement over being with him. Encouraged, he gently pulled at the blond, urging him to sit down. Justin's head was spinning; he didn't know what to do, and looking around, he noticed inexplicably that there was no one anywhere near their private room. He finally sat down at the table, as far away from the other man as possible.

Extremely pleased with his progress so far, Lane smiled. "That's better, Angel," he purred. "That didn't hurt a bit, did it?"

Justin swallowed the large lump in his throat; he was so confused. "Lane, how did you get here? I don't understand."

"Vince and I are old friends," he explained. "After I told him how enchanted I was with you, and how badly I wanted to see you again, he graciously helped me to set up this little lunch date. Clever, isn't it?"

Justin shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind. "So this was a set-up? He wasn't interested in my art at all?" He tried to hide his disappointment; he really thought this was going to be a big opportunity to boost his career.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, Angel. Vince didn't know much about your art at first. But he told me after seeing the first painting completed that he really DOES like it. Very much. In fact, he's prepared to follow through on his plans for the remodeling. Just because he helped me with my greatest heart's desire doesn't mean he wants to renege on his agreement with you. He fully intends to honor it. So you see, Angel? You get the best of BOTH worlds," he said enthusiastically.

_Are you fucking kidding me? I don't want ANYTHING now to do with either one of you._ His mind worked furiously, trying to decide how best to talk to this man without somehow making him angry… or worse.

"Lane," he said soothingly, trying his best to placate his dining companion. "I'm really flattered by all this attention, but I thought I was clear before. I'm in love with Brian – that is not going to change, no matter how much you might want it to. If anything, my love for him has only gotten stronger. Can't you understand? What you apparently feel for me is the same way I feel for Brian. You deserve someone that feels the same way about you that you feel about them. Don't you agree?" he asked the other man softly.

Lane studied the blond intently, his eyes never leaving Justin's face as he spoke. What Justin was saying really didn't even register with him; he was too transfixed by the other man's sapphire blue eyes and full lips, so he did not have any outward reaction to the other man's gentle rejection of him. The only thought in his mind at that moment was how to keep Justin with him – forever.

Justin noticed Lane did not appear upset by what he was saying. _Good – maybe he's finally realizing how fruitless this pursuit is. He doesn't seem particularly upset by what I'm saying. _He kept trying to determine from the other man's expression when it might be the best time to end this encounter. The only thing he wanted to do at that moment was safely walk away from this surreal situation and return to the man he loved – Brian.

At the thought of his lover, Justin cringed inwardly. If Brian knew what was going on right now, he would kill this man – Justin had no doubt of it. In a way, then, he was relieved that Brian was still in Chicago, oblivious to what was going on. Now all he had to do was find an effective way to get out of this restaurant and back to Pittsburgh before Brian became concerned over his partner missing their evening check-in. _ I will never take your concerns for me lightly ever again, Brian._

Vaguely, Justin heard Lane asking him something. "What did you say?" he asked the other man.

"I said – I understand, Angel. I 'm very disappointed, of course, but above everything, I want most of all for you to be happy. And if being with this other man is what it takes, I will just have to accept that. At least let me a make a toast to your happiness before you go," he said gracefully. The older man picked up one of the two glasses filled with champagne and offered it to Justin, smiling regretfully.

Nervously, Justin decided it was best to humor his dining companion, accepting the proffered glass from the other man. He was relieved that Lane seemed to finally be accepting that they would never be together.

Raising his glass in sync with Lane's, he waited impatiently for the other man to present his toast. "Here's to Justin, my angel. May he always find the happiness he so rightly deserves, and with the man who most deserves his love," he recited solemnly. He then lifted his glass to his lips to take a taste, looking expectantly at Justin to do the same.

Justin mimicked the other man's actions, bringing the bubbly liquid to his lips and taking a moderate taste to pacify the other man; he was eager to get this over and get out of there quickly.

Lane looked at him intently, Justin thought almost as if he were waiting for something. _Well, your time with me is OVER, Lane. _Standing up, Justin prepared to move toward the double doors to finally make his escape from his ardent admirer. He took four steps before he suddenly felt dizzy; his eyes began to blur and the room seemed to be tilting. He felt lightheaded and nauseous. He tried to stagger back toward the table to grasp onto it for support, but to no avail. Just before he blacked out, he felt Lane reaching out and grabbing him possessively before he fell to the ground.


	14. Chapter 14: Dread and Desire

Vince wasn't too surprised that it been over an hour since he had asked Henri to escort Justin to the rear private dining room for Lane's much-anticipated reunion with the artist who had apparently so captured his fancy. At his friend's request, Vince had instructed Henri to provide the couple with the expensive champagne Lane had arranged for, but not to intrude on their privacy any further. Lane had indicated he would page Vince when they were ready to order their dinner.

He _was_ surprised, though, when he looked up from the blueprints he was studying in the lobby and noticed his friend now _cradling_ the young artist, who apparently was unconscious, in his arms.

"Lane! What happened? Is he all right?" he asked his friend, concerned. He had actually grown fond of Justin in the short time they had interacted, and admired the blond's creativity and talent.

Appearing somewhat embarrassed, Lane advised his friend, "I'm afraid our young friend here apparently had a little too much alcohol for his own good," he explained, smiling sheepishly. "He passed out after around the third drink. I'm going to carry him down to my boat where he can be comfortable and let him sleep it off for a while. He's obviously in no condition to fly back to Pittsburgh right now, wouldn't you agree?"

That made sense; however, Vince had to admit to himself that the intense, almost desperate look he thought he saw reflected in his friend's eyes was somehow disturbing; it was as if Lane were somehow daring him to object. For a few brief seconds, he felt some apprehension about agreeing to Lane's decision, but he finally decided that Lane knew the blond better than he did and would never do anything to harm the man he was so entranced by.

"Yeah," he finally answered his friend. "I guess that would be best. Let me know when Justin feels better and I'll see that my limo driver takes him back to the airport for his flight back. I know he was anxious to return."

For an instant, Vince thought he noticed disdain showing on the other man's face before he quickly recovered. "Of course. I'll call you on my cell phone as soon as Justin feels better. I'm sure he'll be awake in no time." Nodding at his friend as a goodbye, he waited impatiently for Vince to open the entrance doors, firmly holding the lithe body of the younger man in his arms.

Still having some reservations about his friend's actions, Vince quietly followed Lane out through the entrance, watching him as he stopped a few yards away and bent down for a few seconds to kiss the forehead of the lifeless, blond head. He continued to observe Lane as his friend picked up his pace a bit faster and walked determinedly down to the nearby marina where he had his large boat moored. He watched as Lane and the young man disappeared into the expensive maroon and white yacht.

As he was standing outside, his attention was temporarily diverted by his chief landscaper approaching him to provide an update on the outside enhancements to the restaurant. Approximately ten minutes later, as he was wrapping up his conversation with the employee, Vince glanced up toward the marina as he heard the distinctive sound of a motor starting. He was startled to notice that the yacht now pulling out of the marina was LANE'S. _What the hell?_ _What are you UP to, my friend?_

* * *

Carl glanced over at his flying companion, extreme worry and desperation plainly written all over the other's face. Brian had provided as much information as he could about the sportswear tycoon, but unfortunately his information was mainly limited to the man's business dealings. Brian had never had much inclination to get to know the man better personally, at least once he had found out how fascinated the man was with his partner.

The object of his scrutiny was presently drumming his fingers idly on his knees, his whole body unable to stop fidgeting. The trip from Pittsburgh to Lancaster was relatively brief by jet, but to Brian it felt like a lifetime. All kinds of desperate thoughts were running through his mind. His stomach churned as the thought of something happening to Justin. _Hang on, Sunshine, hang on,_ he silently pleaded. He had already instructed Cynthia by phone to arrange for someone to meet them by the private aircraft hangar at the Lancaster airport to take them immediately to the _Chez Laurent._ He only wished he could have persuaded Carl to contact the Lancaster Police to assist them, but Carl had (albeit diplomatically) explained that unless they were sure Justin was actually being put in some type of danger, he could not enlist their help. _What a fucking, idiotic policy! They have to wait until Justin is HURT before they can do something? _

His thoughts were interrupted just then by Will's voice over the intercom. "Mr. Kinney, I've been cleared for approach into the airport. We should be landing momentarily."

Brian sighed in relief; now they could at least finally find out what was going on. As he and Carl buckled their seatbelts, he only hoped somehow his instincts were wrong and his partner was okay.

* * *

As he reclined on the king-sized bed in his master cabin, Lane continued to stare brazenly at the beautiful man now lying still next to him. He had expressly instructed the captain and steward that he was NOT to be disturbed under any circumstances. The two men had been under his employ for several years, and were experts at exhibiting the utmost in discretion. Fortunately, also, the wooden blinds in his cabin provided the extra privacy he craved, now that he was finally alone with his Angel.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, reaching down to stroke the soft, shiny blond hair. He traced his fingers over the soft, full lips. As he lay on his side, his left elbow supporting his body, he couldn't help bending down to kiss the lips firmly. "I can't wait until you wake up, Angel, so I can feel your lips kissing me back. Until then, though, I have a special surprise for you."

He rose briefly to turn toward the nearby dresser, reaching for a small, light blue box sitting on top. Returning to the younger man's side, he opened the box up to retrieve the small, 24-carat gold angel charm nestled inside.

"I saw this at Tiffany's, Angel, and I had to buy it for you," he murmured throatily. Lane has noticed soon after he met Justin that the artist wore a nipple ring on the right side of his body; he could see the imprint of it through the blond's sweater he had worn the night they had flown to New York City to visit the Museum of Modern Art. Now, he would get the chance to see the adornment up close.

Hands trembling with excitement, he reached down to eagerly hold in turn each slender arm as he gently pulled on the sleeves to partially remove the v-necked tee shirt from his body; then, he gingerly lifted Justin's head up to finish removing it entirely. He openly admired the lithe, pale abdomen hungrily, now ornamented clearly by the gleaming, gold-colored nipple ring. He couldn't resist running his hand down the length of the artists' sternum, caressing the flat, pale, smooth flesh. "So beautiful," he repeated softly.

Reaching down to detach the gold-colored ring from Justin's right nipple, he ran his fingers over the pink-hued nub, groaning with the yearning to be closer to him. He licked his lips as he thought of the two of them making love; he could hardly contain his growing desire for the other man.

Sighing softly in barely-restrained yearning, he grasped the charm and hung the small treasure on the circle-shaped object, appreciating the way it caught the light from the softly-lit lamp nearby. Gently holding down Justin's breast, he carefully reattached the nipple ring to its original position, moving slightly back to admire the additional ornamentation. "You truly do look like an Angel now," he crooned. "Perfect." He continued to caress Justin's forehead, arms, nipples, and chest, desperately yearning for more intimate contact. He did not know how much longer he could wait for the blond to awaken; his desire for the other man was so strong. But he knew how much more meaningful and intense it would be if he could wait. He wanted to feel the other man's arms around him, his lips kissing him, licking him, his tongue dueling with his. "Wake up soon, Angel," he encouraged the other man. "It's time for us to get to know each other better." Sighing loudly in barely-controlled frustration, he finally lay down on his side, his free arm continuing to stroke the other man's bare upper body as he admired the slender profile and pondered whether to remove the rest of the blond's clothing.

* * *

Brian burst out of the car the moment it stopped in front of the _Chez Laurent, _barely registering Carl following behind him at a distance, trying hard to stay in step with him. The brunet didn't even bother to acknowledge the worker standing by the front entrance; he simply yanked on the right hand knob and entered the restaurant at nearly a run.

Spotting a man in the lobby who appeared to be an authoritative figure by the looks of the uniformed construction workers grouped around him, he rushed up to the man without preamble and demanded, "Where's Justin?"

Vince turned at the abrupt interruption to observe a tall, dark-haired man clearly in a state of agitation. "Excuse me?" he asked, somewhat startled by the brusqueness this stranger was displaying.

"Are you Comisar?" he asked impatiently, as Carl hurried up to Brian's side.

"Yeah, that's right," the other man said, somewhat irritated. "Who the hell are you?"

Carl spoke up before Brian had a chance to answer. "I'm Carl Horvath, a detective with the Pittsburgh Police Department. This is Brian Kinney," he said, displaying his badge and motioning to the ad exec bouncing impatiently on his feet next to him. "We're looking for Justin Taylor. We were told he was here with you."

Vince frowned. "You're with the police? What's going on?"

"Will you FUCKING answer the question?!" Brian screamed. "WHERE IS JUSTIN? Tell me now before I twist your fucking head off!" He suddenly lunged at the startled man, Carl just barely able to deflect the younger man's arms before he succeeded in wrapping them around the other man's neck.

"Brian!" he admonished the desperate man. "This isn't helping Justin!" Turning to the restaurateur, he commanded him in a no-nonsense tone, "Answer the question. Where is he?"

Stammering, Vince sputtered, "He, he's not here. Lane said he had too much to drink and needed to sleep it off," he explained.

"What are you talking about?" Brian demanded. "He was with PRESCOTT?"

Vince was inexplicably filled with dread as he averted his eyes from the other man's intense glare, explaining, "Yeah, Lane and I are old friends. He asked me to set up a lunch date with Justin in one of my private dining rooms earlier. But he came out to the lobby carrying Justin after about an hour and told me he had had too much to drink. He said he was going to let him sleep it off down on his yacht."

"His yacht? Where is it?" Brian demanded, unable to keep quiet.

"It was down at the marina – right behind the restaurant here," Vince advised the two men.

Brian started to rush out of the restaurant to head down to the marina, but suddenly realized the other man's use of the past tense. "What do you mean, WAS?" he asked, holding his breath.

His heart almost stopped as Vince admitted, "I thought Lane was acting a little strangely when he was explaining about Justin. I don't know – I've known Lane a long time and something just didn't seem quite right with him. So I don't know why, but I followed Lane outside and watched him carry Justin onto his yacht. One of my landscaping people came up to me just then to discuss some of the outside changes, so I stayed where I was for about 10 minutes longer. Just as I was about to come back in, I heard a motor start up and looked down at the marina. I saw Lane's yacht leaving," he said, afraid to look at the brunet. He didn't quite understand his relationship to Justin, but he could clearly tell the young artist meant a great deal to him.

"Oh, God!" Brian uttered miserably.

Carl grasped his friend's sleeve to try and calm him. "How long ago did Prescott leave with him?" he asked Vince.

"About an hour ago, I'd say."

"Let's go, Carl," Brian urged the other man, trying to pull him toward the front doors. Just before he allowed himself to be led outside, however, Carl thought of two more important questions he needed to ask the other man. "Comisar? What does his yacht look like? And does it have a name?"

Vince answered, "It's mainly white, with maroon on top. It's a Regency 50-foot yacht. And you want to hear something strange? Up until recently, the yacht was called the _No Sweat._ But about a year ago, for some reason Lane rechristened it. He renamed it _The Blond Angel_. I never did figure out why….until now, I guess," he said, his response laden with regret. He watched as Kinney and Horvath turned and rushed out of the restaurant toward the marina. _Lane, _he lamented, _what have you done?_


	15. Chapter 15: Deliver Me From Evil

"Brian! Where are you going?" Carl nodded toward their vehicle waiting.

"Where do you think? I'm going down THERE!" Brian started to sprint down toward the marina.

"What are you DOING? " Carl shouted. "We need to call the Lancaster PD and get them out there on the water to look for Prescott's yacht!" He flipped open his phone to call 911.

"No fucking time, Carl!" Brian yelled back. "We've got to find Justin NOW!" Carl shook his head as he began to run after Brian, listening at the same time for the emergency operator to answer. "What are you DOING?" the older man repeated, frowning.

Spotting a sleek-looking Baja speedboat nearby, Brian ran up to the owner onboard, a middle-aged, slightly balding, dark-haired man wearing a cashmere sweater and a cream-colored pair of linen pants. "Hey! Did you see a maroon and white yacht leave here in the last hour? Name on it is _The Blond Angel," _he advised the man, almost choking in disgust at the name Prescott had rechristened his yacht. Seeing the stranger's look of distrust at being practically accosted without so much as an _excuse me_, Brian added, more softly this time, "Please – it's important."

The man relented at the brunet's apparent look of desperation appearing on his face. "Yeah, actually, I didn't notice the name, but I DID see something like that leave here about 45 minutes ago," he advised the other man. "He took off like a bat out of hell, going that way," he added, pointing toward the south.

"I'll give you a thousand dollars to let me borrow your boat," Brian said commandingly, his words rushing out of him.

"What?" the puzzled man asked.

"Listen, no time to explain," Brian said. "At the risk of sounding melodramatic, this really IS a life or death situation," he replied, urgently trying to put as much sincerity into his statement as humanly possible while he willed this other person to somehow understand he was serious – DEADLY serious.

Fortunately, as the owner was about to nevertheless dismiss the brunet as being completely crazy, Carl managed to catch up with the pair. Flipping open his badge long enough for the stranger to notice that maybe Brian wasn't totally out of his mind after all, the detective explained quickly what had transpired and repeated Brian's request again for the use of his boat. Carl had decided along with Brian that this might just be the best alternative at the moment; he had been able to reach the Lancaster PD and convince them he was legitimate, but they advised him the patrol boat they were dispatching was coming from several miles away in the opposite direction.

Introducing himself to the others as Daniel Lewis, the owner inquired, "Do either of you even know how to operate a speed boat? Never mind," he quickly answered himself, noticing the awkward expressions on both their faces. Something in the younger man's desperate face resonated with Lewis as he suddenly decided, "I'LL go with you. Come on," he said, rushing forward to the bow as the others took a seat.

* * *

Lane glanced over once again at the captivating man lying next to him on the bed. Even asleep, the blond was absolutely enchanting: soft, shiny blond hair, lush lips, long eyelashes, and the slender, lean body. But he was growing impatient. It had been at least two hours now since Justin had drunk that champagne; he couldn't understand why the blond was still unconscious. He had only slipped in a small amount of the drug before Justin arrived; the man who had supplied him with it had said it was a fairly weak version and would only make the artist drowsy for a little while. _So why was he still unconscious?_ "Wake up, Angel," he encouraged the man, gently shaking the younger man's bare shoulder.

With a start, he noticed Justin's body was colder than before, and his breathing seemed to be slower and deeper. Placing a hand over the blond's pulse point on his wrist, he realized his heartbeat was very slow as well. Concern began to replace his impatience; he knew very little about the drug he had purchased. _I just wanted a chance for us to get to know each other better, Angel._ _What have I done?_ Rising quickly, he paced back and forth beside the bed, agonizing over what to do. Finally, after several minutes, he called over the intercom and instructed the captain to steer the yacht toward a nearby cove and wait for further instructions. _I need to think, _he mumbled to himself, plopping discouraged into a nearby chair.

* * *

"I just got off the phone again with the Lancaster PD," Carl advised Brian. "The patrol boat is on its way – I told them the type and name of the boat we're on as well. They have all the information about Prescott's yacht and are searching for it right now."

Nodding, Brian stood at the railing of the boat, holding on as it sped down the river, looking for Prescott's elusive craft. _Please – help us find Justin in time, _Brian silently pleaded. The brunet's emotions ranged from great worry over his partner to extreme hatred for the man who had stolen him away. _You'd better hope the police get to you before I do, you asshole. If I find you first, I will fucking KILL you before they get to you._

"Brian! Take a look!" Rushing over in response to Carl's excited shout, the brunet narrowed his eyes and peered in the direction Carl was pointing. He could vaguely make out the outline of a maroon and white watercraft moored near a small island ahead, bobbing gently up and down in the water. Brian took the binoculars Carl had been using to search for Prescott's yacht and raised them to his eyes. After a few seconds of refocusing them, he looked more closely at the craft. The name _"Blond Angel" _was clearly written on the side.

"That's it!" Brian cried excitedly. "Daniel!" he shouted to the owner. "Over there!" he pointed toward the right. "That's the yacht!" Daniel nodded in understanding, instructing both men to hold on as he abruptly turned the boat and veered it in the direction of Prescott's craft anchored approximately a half mile away.

"Wait, Brian, wait," Carl beseeched the younger man. "We don't know what we're walking into here! We have to wait for the police to get here!"

Brian violently shook his head. "No fucking way, Carl! JUSTIN'S on that yacht! No fucking way am I waiting any longer. Come on, Carl – the man has DRUGGED him, I know it! Do you want to risk something bad happening to him while we're waiting for the fucking patrol boat to show up?" Brian's frustration welled up in him, and his eyes watered suddenly from unshed tears. "Please, Carl," he implored.

Carl hesitated briefly. He had his police-issued handgun with him, but he knew proper procedure would be to wait for backup to appear. Weighing all of the circumstances, however, he realized he had to agree with Brian. Prescott was a loose cannon, and Justin's life could possibly be in jeopardy. He decided now was not the time to be prudent. "Okay," he finally concurred, receiving a slight smile of gratitude and relief from the brunet. "BUT you stay behind on this boat until I know what we're up against," he cautioned the other man before he had a chance to protest. "I promise as soon as I know the situation is under control, you can help Justin." Brian knew from the other man's determined look that he would not be able to change the detective's mind. He didn't like it at all, but sighing, he nodded his assent.

Fortunately, the detective ultimately did not have to chance intercepting Prescott on his own, because he abruptly noticed a speedboat fast approaching from the opposite direction, blue and red lights flashing. As both boats approached Prescott's yacht, he could hear a bullhorn announcing the arrival of the Lancaster Police Department.

"Attention, _Blond Angel! _This is the Lancaster Police Department. Prepare to be boarded. All hands are to immediately come out on the deck where we can see you."

Brian impatiently waited at the railing as Lewis' boat slowed in its approach to Prescott's yacht, anxiously looking for any sign of Justin. He could see two men standing on the deck, but no sign of either his partner or Prescott. Finally, as both boats motored to a stop next to the yacht, he observed Prescott nervously emerging alone from his cabin below. "You fucker! Where is JUSTIN?" he snarled, as the other man visibly flinched. "What have you done with him? If you've hurt him, I'll fucking KILL you!"

"Brian!" Carl physically restrained the man, who was furiously attempting to break free from the detective's hold. "Not yet! Give them enough time to secure the scene!"

"Damn it, Carl! This is Justin we're talking about! Let me go, you asshole!" Brian continued to push against the other man's lock on him. He could see the policemen now swarming all over the deck, patting down each man to apparently check for any hidden weapons, and then one of them disappeared into the cabin below. Brian held his breath as he waited for what seemed like an agonizingly long time before the man reappeared on deck.

Calling over to the patrol boat, he shouted, "We need the EMT down here!"

That was all Brian needed to hear, as his blood ran cold. With an inordinate amount of strength, he violently broke from Carl's hold and jumped from the speedboat's deck directly onto the yacht. Two policemen reached quickly to pull him back from Prescott as he suddenly lunged at the other man, screaming, "I will fucking KILL YOU, Prescott! Do you hear me? I will KILL you! Let me go," he snarled at the policeman. "I need to see Justin." He struggled as they continued to hold him back from Prescott, who was being closely watched by another detective.

"Let him go," Carl said officially, flipping open his wallet to display his detective's badge. "He's Mr. Taylor's partner."

One of the policemen, acknowledging the other man's official position, agreed, but cautioned Brian, "If you go near that man, I will have to arrest you, too." He nodded at the other man holding the brunet's arms as they both let him go.

Brian did not waste any more time dealing with the man who shrunk back physically from his scathing glare of hatred. Rushing down the steps to the door of the master cabin, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him. A paramedic was studiously working on Justin, who was now wearing an oxygen mask. He observed the EMT holding his partner's wrist, taking his pulse. Brian was alarmed by the sight of his normally bubbly, full-of-life lover lying still and unresponsive on the bed.

"How, how is he?" he stammered softly, slowly walking over to the opposite side of the bed. As he tenderly grasped the pale hand, he was alarmed to feel how cold it felt. "He's cold," he murmured. "What's going on?" He could not take his eyes away from the artist's face, which seemed paler than normal and displayed a fine sheen of sweat on his brow.

The paramedic could only spare a quick glance over at the concerned man standing on the other side of the bed. "He's apparently been given some type of drug, would be my guess. We won't know what it is until they can do some tests. He seems stable at the moment. But we need to get him to the hospital right away. His pulse is abnormal and his breathing is too slow." Sparing another fast look at the other man, he asked, "Are you family?"

"Yes," Brian said without hesitation. "I'm his partner."

The man was silent for a few seconds; then seemingly coming to a decision, he said, "Okay. I've called for a gurney from the patrol boat – it should be here any second. You can ride with us to the hospital, if you want."

"Thank you," Brian answered gratefully. Now that he had finally found his partner, he was not going to let him out of his sight. Looking up as he heard a rattling sound, he reluctantly released Justin's hand temporarily as two policemen helped the paramedic gently transfer the blond from the bed to a gurney.

As the two officers carried the gurney upstairs, Brian reached once again for his partner's hand, the paramedic continuing to monitor Justin's condition. Brian noticed Prescott and the crew were now handcuffed as they stood near the stern's railing. Carl walked up to him, explaining, "A couple of the policemen are going to take Prescott and his crew back to the station on Lewis' boat for questioning, so the patrol boat can take Justin directly to the hospital. I'll go with them. I understand you're going back with Justin."

"Yeah," Brian confirmed, as he briefly once again released Justin's hand. "I'm not leaving him until I find out what happened, and that he's going to be all right. The paramedic said he's fairly sure he was given some kind of drug, but they'll need to do some tests to find out what it was." He watched closely as his partner was carried between the two boats and gingerly placed on the patrol's deck.

"I'll come to the hospital as soon as I can," Carl advised him.

Brian was about to walk over to the patrol boat to board it, when he saw Prescott and his crew about to be herded over to Lewis' speedboat. "Wait a minute," he called out to the chief detective holding onto the tycoon, who was nervously studying the brunet fast approaching him.

"That's far enough, Mr. Kinney," one of the two detectives who had warned him earlier once again cautioned him.

Brian stopped approximately five feet away from Prescott. "If I ever get a chance to be alone with you, I will fucking KILL you, Prescott, do you hear me?" he repeated, this time with a deadly quiet tone. His voice rose, however, as he continued. "But if you really think in your fucked-up mind that you CARE about Justin, you will tell me WHAT you gave him before it KILLS him! TELL ME!" he commanded, glaring at the other man as he waited a few seconds for Prescott to answer.

Lane shrunk back from the man's verbal assault. But finally, his shoulders sagged as he answered softly, "GHB." Letting out a breath, he then repeated it a little more loudly. "It was GHB. I didn't mean to hurt him. I LOVE him. I just wanted to be with him," he pleaded.

"You motherfucking piece of shit!" Brian erupted, screaming at him. He lunged at the other man again, just bringing himself up short before a couple of the detectives were about to reach over to restrain him.

"Brian!" Carl admonished him. "He's not worth it! Go! They need to get Justin to a hospital!"

Brian continued to stare angrily at the other man for a few seconds, before abruptly turning on his heel and rushing over to the edge of the yacht, allowing one of the policemen to assist him as he jumped over to the deck of the patrol boat.

"He said he gave Justin GHB," he reported shakily to the paramedic, who nodded.

"I'll alert the hospital about it, so they'll be on standby in the emergency room," the paramedic replied. "Let's go," he called out to the captain. As Brian sat down cross-legged on the deck floor next to his partner, he once again reached for the blond's hand and tenderly brushed back an errant lock of soft hair from the younger man's forehead. "Hold on, Sunshine," he murmured encouragingly, as he bent down to place a tender kiss on the other man's lips. "Hold on. Please."


	16. Chapter 16: Worthy of Protection

Brian couldn't believe that he was sitting yet again in a hospital emergency room, waiting once more for word on his partner's condition. Flashes of that horrible night of Justin's prom and the bombing at Babylon invaded his thoughts. _How much can one man be asked to bear? Hadn't he been through ENOUGH already?_ _Why HIM? Why US?_ Things had been so good for them this past year. They had been so happy, so in sync with each other. They were building a life together. _Why? _The word kept echoing in his head.

The intensive care physician, a Dr. Morrissey, had advised him he would provide an update as soon as possible. Thank God he and Justin had taken the time to prepare a medical power of attorney for each other. He had hoped like hell they would never have to use it. But at least it now provided him with the authority to be kept up-to-date on Justin's condition.

_His condition_. Brian couldn't believe it. In a fit of supreme irony, Ted had once actually chosen HIM to make the decision as to whether or not to "pull the plug" when his, yeah, he dared to say it, his _friend_, had been slipped the same fucking drug by that Blake guy in a drink at his apartment. How fucking ironic is it that Brian would have to be placed in the same life or death position twice, and over the same drug? And with a person who meant so much more than Ted ever could? A person Brian could not live without. How could he even make that decision, if it came to that? He prayed, yes PRAYED, that he would not be put in that situation. _Please, Sunshine, fight this. Don't make me have to decide._ Brian covered his eyes with his lean hands and dropped his elbows onto his knees, placing his head in his hands, totally spent, physically and emotionally.

"Brian?" He looked up as he noticed Carl approaching from the lobby entrance. "Any word?" he asked, as he sat down in an adjacent chair.

"No, not really," Brian replied with a sigh. "The doctor came out a little while ago just to tell me they were still working on him. Said he was still unconscious and his breathing was slow. They're trying to get his body temperature elevated and his heart rate to increase. He said everyone reacts differently to the drug. I DID get the chance to tell him about Justin's allergies so they didn't give him a drug that could be dangerous to him. But he said for now that's all he knows." Rubbing a hand over his weary face, he asked Carl, "What happened at the police station? They didn't let that fucker go, did they?" he asked warily. "That son of a bitch has a lot of explaining to do, if he's allowed to live, that is," he snarled.

"No, he's still being held," Carl assured him. "In fact, we've found out some interesting information that just might keep him locked up for an even longer time," the detective informed him.

"What information? I already know the man is totally without morals and deserves to have his balls ripped out. I'd be glad to volunteer for that duty any time," he mentioned scathingly.

"Well, we already know his buddy, Comisar, was persuaded to help lure Justin out here to Lancaster on an art commission so Prescott could meet him for lunch."

"You mean lure Justin out here so he could fucking kidnap him and practically rape him while he was unable to fight back!" Brian replied contemptuously, his outburst earning several curious looks from nearby waiting room visitors. _At least the fucker didn't get that far._

"Well," Carl continued undeterred, "one of my guys who was checking out your loft today found a bug planted on your landline phone. Something tells me Prescott might just be behind the call that was made to Keller to cancel your security detail. That would explain how the caller had your cancellation code. If he was, that will get him socked with fraud and wiretapping charges, in addition to what he's already facing."

"There's just no end to the fucker's talents," Brian bit back sarcastically. "I spoke to Cynthia a little while ago. She did some digging into Jack Belden's background – he's the guy I met with in Chicago while Prescott was practicing his literary and stalking skills on Justin," he explained disdainfully. "Seems Belden and Prescott are fraternity brothers. They both attended the University of Chicago together. Convenient, huh?"

"He was certainly thorough when it came to his plans," Carl agreed. "And the fact that he not only purchased an illegal drug with the intention of using it on Justin, but also moored his boat at the marina near the restaurant to use it afterward, will no doubt add premeditation charges onto the ones he's already facing for kidnapping, illegal wiretapping, and possibly attempted rape. Trust me, Brian, this guy's not going anywhere for a LONG time."

"Yeah, that's what I thought when Hobbs was arrested, too. And he practically got off scot free! If that fucker ever DOES get out, he won't be alive for long. I'll fucking see to that," he vehemently assured the other man.

Carl was just about to caution the brunet about not taking the law into his own hands when he observed a doctor approaching them. Brian looked up as he noticed Carl's attention being diverted. Standing immediately as he noticed Dr. Morrissey, he asked anxiously, "How is he, doctor?"

The man smiled encouragingly. "He's awake, Mr. Kinney." Brian was elated; he turned to immediately rush back to the patient rooms when the doctor stopped him gently with a grasp of his shoulder. "You can see him," he verified to the other man. "BUT you need to make sure he gets his rest. And you need to be aware that your partner is still experiencing some residual effects from the drug, although I expect them to subside and eventually go away entirely in a few days."

Concerned, Brian asked, "What kind of residual effects?"

"Well, he will likely feel very drowsy and maybe disoriented for several more hours, and could experience some occasional nausea. He could also feel some muscle tension or spasms, along with possible speech impairment. But I'm hopeful these effects will only be temporary. Justin's health and age are a positive influence toward a full recovery. And we have given him medications that will hopefully counteract most of the residual effects until his body can help fight them off." Anticipating Brian's next question, the doctor advised him, "And, yes, we have carefully checked these medications against the list of allergies he has to make sure he's not being given something potentially dangerous. I'll be in to check on him again in an hour or so. He's in Room 14 if you want to see him now."

"Thank you, doctor," Brian replied, as the doctor nodded briefly and returned to the emergency ward.

Brian took a deep breath, forcing himself to push back the extreme contempt and hatred he felt toward Prescott, especially after the doctor had explained what Justin might still have to deal with while he struggled against the effects of the GHB. He decided it was more important right now that he concentrate on his partner's recovery. He would have of plenty time afterward to see that Prescott gets exactly what the fucker deserves – NO mercy.

"Tell Justin we're all behind him," Carl said. "I'll call Debbie and let her know what's going on. I'm sure it will only take one call to her to get the word out to everyone else," he explained, smiling knowingly.

"Yeah, I'm sure you're right," Brian answered, acknowledging the truth of the man's statement; Debbie's communication system was faster than any e-mail could ever be. Smiling slightly at the detective, Brian eagerly walked to the double swinging doors of the emergency room's inner sanctum and began searching for the hospital room that held a most cherished treasure and a long-awaited reunion with his lover.

He finally located Room #14 midway down the hallway on the right. Pushing the cracked door open further, he immediately noticed several machines hooked up, emitting the annoying, cacophonous beeping noises so typical of hospitals. Fortunately, however, except for the oxygen tube in Justin's nose and a blood pressure finger cuff on the blond's left hand, the only other tube trailing from his partner's bed was a continuous IV drip, no doubt dispensing the various medications Dr. Morrissey had mentioned previously to Brian that were helping to reduce the drug's side effects.

Brian observed that Justin was lying on his side, his back to the door. Even if he hadn't known which room his partner was in, he would have recognized him immediately by the shiny, blond head lying like a silky, soft cloud on the pillow. Justin apparently heard the creaking of the door being opened wider, because he turned his head slowly at that moment to face his partner with blue eyes that were atypically cloudy and storm-tossed, not like the clue, sky-blue orbs that Brian always felt he could get lost in forever.

"Justin?" he said nervously, tentatively. "Hey. How are you feeling?" Brian picked up a nearby chair, pulling it closer to his lover. Sitting down, he reached to gently pick up a pale, trembling hand, nervously caressing it with his thumb.

Justin didn't answer at first. He blinked his eyes a few times, seemingly trying to focus them more clearly. After several seconds, Brian felt the blond slightly squeeze his hand in a silent acknowledgement of his presence. "Tired, so tired," he finally answered in a soft, raspy voice.

"Shh," Brian murmured soothingly, tenderly smoothing the errant hair back from his lover's forehead that had fallen into the fluttering eyes that were now struggling to stay open. "Don't try to talk right now, Sunshine. Just rest. They'll be time to talk later. I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere," he confirmed, his voice choking. He placed his other hand over the top of the slender one, holding it now like a cocoon. "Sleep," he repeated softly. He watched as Justin's face finally seemed to relax as he sighed softly, his eyes fluttering a few more times before closing in slumber.

Still holding onto his lover's hand as if it were a lifeline, Brian finally lay his exhausted head down on the side of the bed, close enough to touch the blond's chest and feel the reassuring heartbeat of the man who had so irrevocably stolen his own heart so many years ago.

* * *

Justin fought to open his eyes, even though it felt like there a weight trying to keep them securely closed. He eventually succeeded in opening them slightly, enough to determine that his partner was hunched half over in his hospital bed, the auburn-colored head lying awkwardly near his chest, both hands possessively clutching one of his own.

He felt like there was a wad of cotton in his mouth. Trying to swish his tongue around inside to relieve some of the extreme dryness, he attempted to half raise himself in the bed, only succeeding in feeling a sharp spasm in his left side. He couldn't help groaning as he quickly flopped back down on the bed. _That was a bad idea_, he decided.

"Justin?" Brian's head immediately raised itself from the bed, concern evident in the handsome but tired features. "What is it?"

"Brian," Justin murmured. "What happened? Where am I?" he asked softly, his voice strained.

Releasing his double hold on the blond's hand, but not letting go entirely, he answered, "You're in a hospital in Lancaster, Sunshine. Emmett told me about you coming here with Comisar for a painting he had commissioned," he offered in explanation as to why he was there in Lancaster. "How much do you remember of what happened?" Brian didn't know how good an idea it was to rehash his partner's horrible experience with Prescott, but he thought it was important to make sure he was not experiencing any memory loss because of the GHB.

Justin struggled to recall the past few days; everything seemed so jumbled right now. Trying hard to concentrate, he replied haltingly, "I remember flying out here with Vince to put my painting up at the restaurant. Then he asked me if I wanted to stay for lunch, but he told me he couldn't join me."

Brian noticed the blond hesitating, fear, dread and guilt clearly written all over his beautiful partner's face. "What else do you remember, Justin?" he prompted him gently. "Tell me. It's okay, Sunshine," he replied quietly, trying to reassure his lover.

Justin bit his lip nervously. "Well," he stammered, his voice shaky. Brian wasn't sure if it was because Justin was apprehensive about his reaction or if it was from the effects of the drug. "Vince had one of his workers take me back to one of the private dining rooms in the rear. I just thought I would get something quick to eat and get back to Pittsburgh. To you," he added in explanation, looking shyly at Brian. Brian gently squeezed his lover's hand, encouraging him to go on.

The tears threatened to fall from the slowly-focusing sapphire eyes as he continued, this time more in a mournful rush, "I swear, Brian, I didn't know!" he cried repentantly. Somehow he knew that Brian understood who he meant without even saying the name. "I didn't know he would be here. I had no fucking idea until I saw him sitting there. I was so scared, Brian. He was so creepy. I wanted so badly to turn around and run, but it was like I was frozen to the spot. He was so intense – I was afraid of what he might do." Justin let out a shaky breath, trying to collect his composure before he broke down entirely in front of the man he loved more than anything. He didn't understand why his body felt so weak and out of control suddenly.

"Breathe, Sunshine. Take a deep breath. I'm right here. Hold onto me. This will all pass. Look at me," he commanded gently. Brian placed his fingers under the blond's chin, tenderly raising it so Justin's eyes could meet his. So Justin could know that Brian wasn't blaming him for what had happened.

Looking deeply into the encouraging, hazel eyes, he took another shaky breath as he tried to calm himself. He searched within himself to remember additional details of his shocking reunion with Prescott. "I told him, Brian. I told him that I loved you, that nothing had changed, except that I loved you even more now," he insisted to his partner. "I thought he understood, Brian. He said he understood." Justin harrumphed slightly in derision as he thought of the absurdity of what happened next. "He said all he wanted was a drink. He wanted to give a toast to my happiness. What a fool I was! Naïve little Justin actually believed him." He shook his head, unexpectedly feeling another small spasm, this time in his chest. He flinched slightly at the sudden pain, producing a frowned look of concern on his partner's face.

"Justin. You need to rest. We can talk about this later," Brian interrupted him.

"No, Brian. I need to tell you. I need you to know." He insisted, struggling stubbornly to remember all of what had happened. He frowned. _Why did he feel so confused? _"He, he picked up his glass of champagne and started to give a toast. He drank some of it and then looked at me, waiting for me to take a sip." Justin swallowed, trying once again to get rid of the dry feeling in his mouth. "I remember thinking this was good, because I could take a drink and then get out of there." He continued tiredly in explanation, "Back to the loft. Back to you," he said pointedly, looking intensely at his lover. "I think I remember getting up to leave, but I felt so dizzy all of a sudden. Light headed." The blond's face clouded over with worry and a pained realization as he told his partner, "I can't remember anything else. Until I woke up here. Brian, how did I get here in this hospital?" he asked breathlessly. "Why am I here? How did you get here? What happened to me?" he cried, his agitation growing. He again tried to raise himself up in the bed, but was gently restrained by Brian's hands firmly grasping both of his shoulders.

"Shh, Sunshine, it's okay. Everything's going to be okay. You're safe now. I will never let anything else happen to you ever again, you hear me? Now you're going to fucking lie back down and get some more rest," he tenderly admonished his lover, slowly forcing Justin to recline once again fully on the bed. Sighing in frustration but acquiescing to his lover, his body's weakness and fatigue caught up with him as he allowed himself to succumb to sleep, his eyes once again slowly closing in surrender.

Brian leaned over closer as he continued to stare at the beautiful, independent, but vulnerable man once again sleeping beside him. He placed a soft kiss on the other man's lips, whispering once again his vow to him. "That man will never hurt you again, Sunshine. Never."


	17. Chapter 17: Filling in the Gaps

_The Next Day_

Dr. Morrissey peered inside his patient's room, not surprised to still see the auburn-haired man slumped in the chair placed alongside the hospital bed. After all, the man hadn't moved one foot from his location, except to snag a quick cup of coffee from the cafeteria or use the bathroom. The nurses had actually found the situation touching, and had sympathized so much with their patient's protective visitor, they had finally offered him an adjacent, empty room to take a shower in and grab a quick nap. He had gratefully taken advantage of a quick shower, but instead of an unoccupied bed, he had persisted in napping on the rather uncomfortable chair that converted to an equally uncomfortable twin bed next to his blond partner. That is precisely the location Dr. Morrissey now found the man in, his long fingers intertwined with those of the patient now lying more at ease in the bed.

Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, the doctor quietly entered the room and approached Justin on the other side of the bed. He gently shook the slender man's left shoulder, softly calling to him.

"Justin?" At the sound of his name being called, Justin slowly opened his eyes, feeling stronger than he had the day before. The foggy feeling he had been experiencing yesterday, too, seemed to have diminished greatly, he discovered to his relief.

Brian, too, awkwardly roused himself from his half-lying, half-sitting position on the convertible chair and glanced over at the younger man, noticing the doctor had entered the room.

"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked.

"Better," Justin confirmed. Brian had to agree; the blond's color was definitely improved, and he seemed to be much more alert now.

As he raised a small penlight to look into his patient's eyes, the doctor noticed they were definitely clearer looking than the day before; in addition, Justin accurately moved his eyes to match the direction of his movement with the light. Nodding in satisfaction, he looked over at the man who had so devotedly stayed by his patient's bedside for the last two days.

"Definitely improving," he reassured them both, hearing an immediate sigh of relief from his patient's "shadow." Explaining, he continued, "Your eyes are focusing much more normally and don't appear cloudy or dilated any more. And I just got through looking over all your vitals. They'e all within normal limits. You were a very lucky young man, Mr. Taylor," he said, smiling.

"Yes, doctor, I AM," he clarified, looking over at his partner, smiling in gratitude. Brian smiled in return, elated at Justin's progress. "So any idea when I can get out here?" he asked the doctor somewhat impatiently. He had seen more than enough of hospitals in his relatively short life.

"Well, I'd like to keep you at least through the morning. If everything stays on track like it is now, I'll sign the discharge for you later today." Turning to Brian, he advised him, "Make sure he eats something this morning – with all the medication he's been prescribed, he shouldn't be ingesting all of it on an empty stomach. And make sure he reads over all the discharge instructions." Nodding at Justin, he stood up to leave. _Just who's the patient here? _Justin had to laugh inwardly - it seemed all the directions were being given to his "defender" instead of him.

"Don't worry, doctor, I'll make sure he follows every instruction if I have to chain him to the bed," Brian answered. As the doctor left the room, he turned to Justin, adding, "Not that the thought of you chained to my bed is necessarily an _unpleasant_ image, Sunshine," causing Justin to blush slightly.

"Brian," he murmured affectionately, reaching up to caress the other man's cheek. Brian couldn't help bending down to bestow a tender kiss on the blond's mouth, forcing himself to pull back as Justin tried unsuccessfully to deepen it.

"Uh, uh, uh, Sunshine," he clucked. "No such luck. Nice try. You've got a breakfast to eat," he lectured, pointing to the covered tray lying nearby.

Justin groaned. "Something incredibly tasty, no doubt," he grumbled. Lowering his voice seductively, he added, "But not nearly as incredibly tasty as you."

Brian fought the instantaneous and distinctive effect that occurred at the sound of his lover's voice; shit, all he had to do was speak to him in that certain way and it never ceased to make him hard. Trying determinedly to will his body under control, he reached over to pull the tray table to move it closer to his partner.

Justin reached out and grasped the other man's arm. "Wait, Brian," he implored him. "I promise I'll eat," he reassured him. "But first, now that I'm actually LUCID this morning for a change," earning a smirk from the other man, "I need for us to continue our conversation from yesterday."

Brian averted his eyes. He was dreading having to make Justin relive what he had gone through at the hands of that asshole. But he knew Justin had to know everything, that he would INSIST on knowing everything.

Sighing in resignation, he asked, "What would you like to know, Sunshine?"

"I want to know how you wound up being here. And how I wound up being in this hospital. Everything after I drunk that champagne is a total blank. Brian, I need to know it all."

"I know you do. I just don't want you getting upset, not when you're so close to getting out of this fucking place. Promise me you will stay calm, Justin," he said, solemnly looking at the blond.

"I promise, Brian. But please – I need to know," he repeated.

"Okay. As you know, I went on a business trip to Chicago at the invitation of a potential client, a man by the name of Jack Belden." As Justin nodded, he continued. "Well, after pitching I don't know HOW many proposals at the guy, nothing seemed to satisfy him." Looking a little awkward at his lover, he added, somewhat shyly, "And it's a funny thing. The old Brian Kinney would have stayed there through fucking hell or high water until he had landed the client that couldn't be had. But the new Brian Kinney said "fuck it" and decided he wasn't worth the effort. Besides, I had something much more pleasurable waiting for me at home," he said softly as he looked pointedly at his partner, emitting another blush from the artist.

Taking a breath because he knew a particular blond wouldn't appreciate the next bit of information, he continued. "When I decided to go to Chicago, I knew I would be worried about your safety the whole fucking time. So I hired a private security firm to arrange for three of his men to keep tabs on you and the loft. To keep you safe," he added, just before Justin's mouth opened in protest. Satisfied that Justin would actually listen to his explanation, he advised him, "Well, when I got home, the first thing I did was call the guy I know at the security agency to find out how the detail had went – his name's Keller – only to discover from him that Ted had apparently called him up the day I left to cancel the security assignment. Said that you had found out about and was pissed. That you were basically having a major queen out and threatening to leave the loft unless I canceled the watchdogs. The guy even had the correct cancellation code, so Keller didn't think anything was out of the ordinary."

"But you're saying, I take it, that Ted wasn't the one who called?" Justin surmised correctly.

"That's right," Brian verified. "I called Ted about it and he was insistent he didn't even know I HAD a detail dispatched to the loft to watch over you. Not only that," he added, "Ted told me I had had a message delivered to Kinnetik, an anonymous note saying that you were where you belonged, and reminding me that this guy never gave up when he wanted something. That's when I knew all the gifts and the notes had been coming from Prescott." Looking regretfully at Justin, he explained, angry at himself, "I couldn't believe I didn't think of him from the start. All the pieces were pointing right at him. But it'd been over a year since he'd left, and I honestly thought he had given up. But it was right in front of my fucking face, Justin! I should have figured it out. If I had, NONE of this would have happened!" He placed his hands over his face, rubbing it in frustration.

Justin reached up to gently pull both of the man's hands away from his face. He held firmly onto both of Brian's hands as he clearly said, "Brian, look at me. LOOK at me," he repeated, more firmly. Brian finally raised his hazel eyes to meet Justin's as the blond assured his lover, "It wasn't your fault, do you hear me? IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT. You tried everything you could to keep me safe. If anything, I should blame myself for not taking the situation more seriously. So don't you dare go blaming yourself, Brian!" The blue eyes that Brian loved so much teared up slightly as he stared at his partner.

"I'll tell you what, Sunshine," Brian softly said at last. "I won't blame myself for not figuring it out sooner if you don't blame yourself for not wanting to let that son of a bitch intimidate you. I'm just so fucking relieved that you're going to be all right. That's what's important." He reached down to give Justin another quick kiss before pulling back slightly, hands still clasped with the blond's.

Justin smiled softly. "Deal," he said simply. "But I still need to know the rest, Brian," he reminded him.

"Okay. Well, when I figured out it was Prescott and that you were missing from the loft, I pretty much went out of my mind with worry," he admitted. "That's when Carl got involved – I called him over to the loft to investigate. That's also when I noticed you had left your cell phone at the loft," he said, sternly but gently admonishing his partner. Justin looked at him embarrassed as he continued to explain. "Eventually, Emmett showed up with Debbie and that's when I found out you had gone with Comisar out here to Lancaster for what was supposed to be an art assignment. But something just didn't sit right with me. It was too big a coincidence. I didn't know at the time that Comisar and Prescott were childhood friends and that he had been asked to help arrange your little private reunion with that fucker," he practically spat out the last word, extreme disdain clearly heard in his voice. "I finally found it out when Comisar admitted that he had helped plan the whole thing to get you up here."

Justin stared at Brian silently as he continued. "He finally admitted his involvement when he told me that he had seen Prescott CARRY you out of the restaurant, down to his yacht that he had conveniently docked at the marina out back."

"CARRY me?" Justin asked, shocked.

"Yes," Brian confirmed. "He had obviously slipped the GHB into your drink, and you pretty much blacked out almost immediately." Disgusted, Brian explained, "Apparently he told Comisar that you had had too much to drink, and he was doing you a FAVOR by carrying you out to his yacht to let you sleep it off. Real hospitable of him, wasn't it?" Brian spat. "Except Comisar wasn't so sure of his friend's _pure intentions_ when he saw Prescott leaving the marina shortly thereafter with YOU on his boat."

Justin listened intently as Brian elaborated further. "Unfortunately for the son of a bitch, he didn't anticipate Carl and me commandeering another boat, a speedboat, to follow him and eventually catch up with him when he made the mistake of docking the yacht at a cove further down the river. It also allowed us enough time for Carl to call the local PD and get their patrol boat to meet us halfway. They arrested Prescott and the two crewmen and took them back to the police station for questioning. There was a paramedic onboard the patrol boat who helped to stabilize you until they could get you here to the hospital; Prescott finally admitted he had given you GHB. As far as I'M concerned, they should just go ahead and EXECUTE the fucker for what he did to you," he said passionately. He looked at Justin then, a little embarrassed by the sudden lump in his throat at the thought of what could have happened to the man he loved so deeply, if they hadn't reached him in time.

Justin bit his lower lip in realization of what Brian had done to protect him, and how he had almost made one of, if not THE biggest mistake of his life, by not listening to him. He hung his head in regret and embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Brian," he said softly. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. And I'm sorry I didn't take everything seriously enough."

Brian reached down and lifted Justin's chin gently with his long fingers, persuading the blond to finally lift his eyes to look into the hazel eyes filled with so much emotion. "I won't say it hasn't been fucking difficult, wondering where you were at first and then wondering whether you were going to be all right. But NOTHING would have been worse than living my life without you in it," he said fervently. And as much as he hated to at that moment, he had to remind Justin that not everything was resolved just yet.

"Sunshine, you realize you will have to press charges against this man, and no doubt have to eventually testify in court against him," he prodded him gently. "If you don't, he will get out without a fucking scratch. You CAN'T let that bastard get away with what he did, what he COULD have done, to you. If he ever DOES get out, he won't see the fucking light of day ever again, one way or the other," he vowed vehemently.

"I know, Brian," Justin confirmed. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't dread it. I thought Lane was a pretty decent guy at first," earning a scoffing huff from his partner. "But I realize now that it was all a ruse to get what he wanted. Me," he said, a little embarrassed. "I still don't understand, though. He could have had anything he wanted, any ONE he wanted. And now he's thrown it all away because he wouldn't take no for an answer."

It amazed Brian that this man who had been through so much could actually still feel sympathy for that bastard. But it also pointed out one of the qualities he loved in Justin – his ability to always try to find the good in someone, his compassion for others. _Well, I'll just have to protect you from yourself sometimes, Sunshine_.

Brian reached over for the breakfast tray, uncovering the contents. "Ooh, look, some delectable scrambled Egg Beaters with half a tomato and some clumpy oatmeal just made to stick itself to your stomach and repair leaky drains, also," he smirked, earning a scrunched up face from his partner. Picking up the fork, he stabbed an apparent imitation sausage link nearby and waved it in front of his lover's face. "Open up, Sunshine," he sing-songed. "You can fill your little tummy up and practice your cock-sucking skills at the same time," earning a soft laugh from the blond.


	18. Chapter 18: Protect Me From Harm

_Four Months Later_

Brian rested his chin on Justin's shoulder as he studied his partner's latest creation. He always thought Justin's works were fabulous (especially the ones painted with him as the subject, of course), but since the ordeal with Prescott, his pieces had gotten noticeably darker in content. That was not very surprising; Justin's emotions had always manifested themselves through his painting.

This was one no exception – it was an abstract awash in shades of dark maroon, black, and navy. And while Brian would never profess to be an art expert, it didn't take a genius to discern the angry strokes that dominated this one, as well as the reason behind it.

Justin turned his head to give his lover a quick kiss. "I'm almost done," he said. "Just a few more minutes," he stated in answer to Brian's silent question.

Brian grasped the slender shoulders from behind and murmured, "I wish there was another way, Sunshine."

Justin turned in his embrace, wrapping his hands around the lean back. "I know. But we BOTH know there IS no other way." He sighed. "I just want to get this over with. I feel like my life's been on hold for the last few months." He was quiet for several seconds before admitting, "I'm not looking forward to seeing him again in that courtroom."

Brian nudged his forehead with his. "I know," he gently replied. "But I will be with you every step of the way."

Justin smiled gratefully. "I know you will, and I can't tell you how much that means to me. I couldn't do this without you, you know," he added, reaching his arms up to affectionately ruffle the auburn hair on Brian's neck.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Sunshine," he confirmed, pulling the blond head down for a tender kiss. Releasing his partner somewhat reluctantly, he said, "I'd better let you finish up. We don't want to be late. I'll grab some coffee so you can finish and take that shower." He kissed the blond once again, this time on the cheek, before returning to the kitchen.

* * *

Justin looked with dread at the army of media boom trucks, cameramen, and reporters stationed outside the Allegheny County courthouse downtown. Thanks to his previous confrontation with Hobbs, the bombing at Babylon, and now the ordeal with Prescott, who was a well-known figure in his own right, the attention to the trial had reached epic proportions, not only in Pittsburgh but also in New York City, where Prescott held his corporate offices. The man had been released on bail shortly after his arrest, despite the vehement protests of Justin's attorney, so he had been able to spend his considerable time and wealth obtaining the best defense money could buy. Justin's attorney, Greg Matthews, was supposed to be one of the best prosecuting attorneys in the state, according to Mel, whose advice Justin had sought shortly after returning to Pittsburgh.

But Matthews had already warned his client that this was going to be a difficult battle. There was no doubt that Prescott had kidnapped Justin, as well as instructed those under him to perform illegal activities, including wiretapping and impersonating another party; but for weeks now, there had been rumors that the defense was prepared to offer a temporary insanity plea to justify Prescott's actions, an idea that Brian found absolutely appalling and reprehensible. He was determined to see that justice was done, and more importantly, that his partner was protected at all costs.

Pushing through the aggressive throng of media representatives as they left their relatively safe confines of the 'Vette, Brian kept his arm firmly around Justin's waist, urging him to ignore the questions being thrown out at him relentlessly from all angles. Justin eyes were clouding over in pain and fear, as the claustrophobic atmosphere threatened to suffocate him. "Don't think about it, Sunshine," he comforted the younger man. "Keep your head up and keep walking. I've got you," he said softly, bending down to whisper in the blond's ear to be heard about the din of voices. Justin nodded and did as Brian instructed, striding purposefully to the front entrance door as the media throng was fortunately prevented from encroaching any further.

Justin paused just inside the door to take a deep breath, trying furiously to slow his breathing down and calm himself. Brian wrapped his arms firmly around him in a tight embrace. "Shh, it's going to be okay, Justin," he reassured him. He heard a sniffle from his partner; Brian's heart broke a little at the knowledge of how difficult a test this was going to be for the man he loved so much. He would have given anything to keep Justin from having to go through this, but he understood that ultimately only his partner could put the fucker away for good. And he knew that Justin was actually a lot stronger than others gave him credit for, or he wouldn't have survived what have been thrown at him time and time again.

Justin took another deep breath, before breaking away from Brian's comforting embrace. He, however, kept an arm wrapped around the other's man waist. With another long exhale, he said, "I'm as ready as I guess I'll ever be, Brian, let's get this over with." The older man smiled at him encouragingly, nudging his lover's nose with his own. "Let's go, Sunshine," he said, wrapping his own arm around the blond's waist as he led him toward the courtroom doors.

As they rounded the corner near Courtroom #B, they were shocked to see their "family" there: not only Jennifer, Molly and Tucker, but also Debbie, Emmett, and even Cynthia. Ted and Carl, of course, were already expected to be there, as they both had to testify on Justin's behalf. But they were probably surprised most of all by Lindsey & Mel's appearance.

Both women rushed up to Justin to hug him enthusiastically. "Justin! Hi, Sweetie," Mel said, as Lindsey offered him a kiss on the cheek. "You look good, Justin," Lindsey said, smiling affectionately at him.

Justin's eyes welled up with tears at the thought of this group making such a determined effort to show up and offer their support. He was overwhelmed by the love he was feeling from all of them. "Thank you, guys. These means so much to me," he said, voice choking up with emotion.

"We're all here for you, Sunshine," Deb answered, as everyone else nodded in agreement.

"You can do this, baby," Em, also, encouraged his friend. "And we'll be right in there with you. You go nail that bastard!" he added firmly.

"He WILL," Brian verified, speaking for both of them. "We BOTH will. That fucker's not going ANYWHERE from now on," he vowed. Turning to study his partner, he asked, "You ready to do this, Sunshine?"

Justin felt emboldened as he looked around at all the people who had made such a determined effort to show up to offer their encouragement and support. Squaring his shoulders, he smiled slightly at Brian and answered firmly, "Yeah. I'm ready. Let's do this." Returning his smile encouragingly, the large group entered the courtroom together.

As they proceeded into the room, it seemed liked everyone's eyes were on him. Justin noticed the space was quickly filling up. No doubt there were curious bystanders in the courtroom, in addition to press reporters sprinkled throughout, ready to dispense whatever prurient details they could dig up for their inquisitive audience, he thought distastefully. Sometimes he detested the freedom of the press; such an open society succeeded in creating an insatiable need to probe into everybody's business. He would have rather not had every juicy detail spread all over the evening news, but he knew it couldn't be stopped.

Sighing inwardly, he recognized his attorney sitting at the prosecutor's table. Catching his attention, Greg walked back toward Justin's group. "Hi, Justin, everybody," Matthews greeted them. He already knew most of Justin's supporters, such as Brian, of course, who had closely followed every move of the case since the event had happened, and Mel, who was asked to be an advising co-counsel on the case, having a friendly relationship already with Justin; he knew the young man was understandably very skittish over having to testify in court against the defendant, and along with Brian, Mel had the ability to help keep her friend calm.

"Justin, Mel, may I have a word with you privately?" he asked the pair, nodding his head toward a relatively empty corner. As he expected, not only did Justin and Mel follow him, but Brian as well. His client's partner had been very protective of Justin since the kidnapping, insisting he was not going to take any chances until he knew that Prescott was locked up, hopefully for the rest of his life. The man's love and protectiveness toward his blond partner was easily apparent, even to the most casual acquaintance.

As they stood off to the side out of earshot of any would-be eavesdroppers, Matthews advised his client, "I need to let you know that the defense team just filed a motion in connection with Prescott's "not guilty" plea. They are definitely going after a temporary insanity defense." At Brian's look of disgust, Matthews confided, "That doesn't surprise me in the least. After all, we've got Prescott dead to rights on the charges of kidnapping, wiretapping, and fraud. Although as I told you before, I honestly have doubts that the attempted rape charge will stick," he reminded his client, noticing the visible flinch Justin displayed at the word _rape._ "Even so, these other charges would bring at least 25 years to life if he's found guilty and convicted. So in my opinion, it's the only alternative the defense has."

Brian was furious at the thought that this man who had stalked Justin and terrorized him might be successful in pleading an insanity defense, and had great difficulty keeping his voice down as he said incredulously, "I don't BELIEVE this! This is a guy who planned everything out! He lured me away, managed to cancel the security men I had at the loft, and even found a way to get Justin out of town so he could drug and KIDNAP him! That doesn't sound like someone who's lost all his fucking marbles to me!"

"I agree with Brian," Justin said, he, too, aghast at the thought of Prescott practically getting away unpunished. "It takes a very calculating and intelligent mind to do what that he did, NOT someone whacked out of his fucking mind."

"I understand where you're coming from, believe me," Greg reassured them. "But under this type of defense, his attorneys only have to prove that he TEMPORARILY did not understand right from wrong at the time the crimes were committed. Don't get me wrong – it's NOT going to be an easy stance to prove, that's for damn sure. But arguably it's the only one they've got if he wants to be found not guilty. Obviously, they're taking a big risk here. But I think they're approaching it along the lines that it's not any riskier than him going ahead and pleading guilty right off the bat. At least this way, they feel they've got a chance."

"He's right, baby," Mel verified to her friend. "I'm not surprised they're trying this; in fact, I pretty much expected it. It's his only chance to not face a long jail sentence. But the cases of successfully arguing that defense are VERY rare, Justin, and the witnesses against him are impressive. I don't see him having a snowball's chance in Hell of winning with that plea."

Justin briefly closed his eyes, his body in a kind of inner turmoil. He was already extremely nervous about having to face Prescott again; now the very thought of him somehow not being held responsible for the torment he had put him through seemed unfathomable to him and made his sense of apprehension exponentially greater.

"Justin?" His inner struggle was interrupted by Brian's concerned eyes looking at him. "Remember what I said, Sunshine. I'm right here with you. When you get up there, you just tell everyone what happened and you look at me, NOT at that son of a bitch. Don't let him get to you. It's going to be all right. He's going to get what he deserves, Justin. You have to believe that. It's going to be all right," he repeated softly but fervently. He had to make his partner trust that justice would prevail in this courtroom after everything was all said and done; any other outcome was just not acceptable.

Justin smiled faintly, thinking how very much he loved this man who stood by him and protected him. "I'm okay," he reassured him. "As long as you're with me."

"Always," his lover vowed tenderly, reaching for Justin's hand, which the blond eagerly clasped in return.

"Good," Greg replied. Nodding at his client, he advised him, "Mel and I need to get back up front to get ready for opening arguments. You and Brian take a seat where you're comfortable. They'll be bringing out Prescott soon from the side chamber," he warned. You'll be called when it's your turn to be a witness, as well as Brian and the others. I'm not sure how long that will be. But just try to relax," he added, receiving somewhat of a look of disbelief from both men. "I know, easier said than done. But take deep breaths and try. You'll both be fine," he replied confidently, trying to reassure them. "Like Brian said, when it's your turn, just get up there and tell the truth. That should be enough right there to nail the bastard."

"Hang in there, baby," Mel said, giving him a brief hug before turning to follow her colleague back up the aisle to the prosecutor's table.

"C'mon, Sunshine," Brian urged his partner. "Let's go sit with the rest of our family, okay?" Pulling the blond's hand gently to follow him, he encouraged him to take a seat next to Jennifer, who took her son's other hand and squeezed it affectionately as she reached over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Okay, honey?" she whispered to him, sensing his distress.

"Yeah, as okay as I'll ever be, I guess." He turned to give what he hoped was a reassuring smile to Brian, hoping desperately that his statement would turn out to be correct.


	19. Chapter 19: In Pursuit of Justice

Brian glanced over at his partner, the anxiety clearly written all over his beautiful face. The longer it took for Prescott to enter the courtroom, the more agitated Justin became. The waiting was tortuous for both of them, but for his partner, especially, it was a two-edged sword. Brian knew how badly the man he loved wanted this entire ordeal behind him, but he also knew how much Justin was dreading having to face Prescott again. Unfortunately, everyone knew the best chance to put the fucker away for good was for his victim to testify against him. So as much as Brian detested the idea, it was necessary in order to achieve their goal.

Brian noticed Justin's entire body suddenly tensing up as he heard a side door opening. Justin reached over to tightly grasp Brian's hand as a uniformed, armed deputy sheriff walked into the courtroom, followed by the defendant. Brian had fervently hoped the man would be forced to wear the latest in fashionable, orange prison gear, but unfortunately the son of a bitch had maintained his right to wear street clothes at his trial, and arrived accordingly in an outrageously expensive Armani tailored suit and Versace black leather shoes, his dark black hair perfectly coiffed. The only satisfaction Brian received was the observation that the man was handcuffed; however, even that was short-lived, as he noticed the deputy reach around Prescott's back and unlock his cuffs before the man was seated next to his attorney, Wyatt Sinclair.

Brian and Justin had already been briefed on Prescott's defense attorney. From what both Mel and Greg had told them, Prescott had indeed spared no expense in retaining possibly the most famous and cut-throat attorney in Pennsylvania. Sinclair was known for hobnobbing with the rich and famous, and his wealth was only surpassed by his cockiness. The 57-year-old attorney had an outstanding winning case record, and was well-known and respected by the local trial judges.

Thirty-five-year old Matthews, on the other hand, was a former police officer and relatively new to the Alleghany County Prosecutor's Office, having graduated from law school just five years earlier. Brian had to admit the thought of this virtual newcomer grappling with the venerable defense attorney made him extremely nervous, but Mel was confident he would pull out all the stops to prosecute Prescott. She had worked alongside him on previous cases, and assured Brian the man was a virtual pit bull when the need was warranted. Matthews had made no secret of his disdain for what Prescott had done in his obsessive pursuit of Justin. Brian only hoped his zealousness and tenacity would overcome Sinclair's reputation and overly high opinion of himself.

Justin watched Prescott intently from the time he came into the courtroom until he was seated by Sinclair; only then did he finally loosen his death grip slightly on his partner's hand. He would not let go entirely, however. Justin was going to need every bit of Brian and the rest of his family's support to get through this procedure. Brian squeezed his partner's hand back supportively, before leaning over to whisper in his ear. "It's going to be okay, Sunshine," he softly reassured him. Justin nodded slightly, trying hard to believe that.

As everyone rose for the jury and judge to enter the courtroom, Justin had an opportunity to examine the judge who would be presiding over the trial, George Mason. Justin was relieved to discover it was NOT the same judge who had presided over Hobbs's farce of a trial. In fact, Mel had told him that at least Mason was known to be a fair, no-nonsense, and thorough judge, qualities that the previous judge had been sorely lacking in, from what Brian had told him afterward.

Shortly after everyone was seated and preliminary instructions were given, the two opposing sides presented their opening arguments. As expected, Matthews strategically focused on all the reprehensible aspects of Prescott's actions.

"Honorable Judge and Jury, ladies and gentlemen. I am going to present to you a simple case. A case of a man obsessed with another who would stop at nothing until he had what he wanted," Matthews intoned clearly and confidently, pacing slowly back in forth in front of the jury box. "A man who clearly stepped over the boundaries of a mere infatuation into kidnapping this man to obtain what he wanted, but at a price that almost cost this man his life. During this trial, you will be presented with undisputable evidence that the defendant, Lane Prescott, meticulously and with premeditation planned out every step of his outrageous scheme to obtain the object of his desire, with no regard to the cost. And when all the evidence is presented, you will be left with no doubt that what this man did was clearly outside of the law, and deserves appropriate punishment."

Brian had to admit he was impressed by Matthews' confidence and passion. Justin, also, seemed to relax slightly when the prosecuting attorney had finished his opening statement. Both man, however, turned to look intently as Wyatt Sinclair stood to present the defense side's opening argument.

"Honorable judge and jury, ladies and gentlemen," he began. "During the course of this trial, the defendant will not deny that he may have stepped outside the limits of the law in his somewhat overzealous pursuit of a man he was captivated and enthralled by," Sinclair stated. "However, we respectfully ask that you withhold judgment until all the facts are presented. If you do, we are confident that you will decide that my client, a man of great influence and power who is held in high esteem by his colleagues in the world of fashion merchandising, never meant to incur harm on the victim. Rather, when all the evidence is offered, you will agree that this man was temporarily incapable of determining right from wrong, that his actions were not within his control."

Brian snorted in disgust; this man truly was one of the most pompous people he had ever seen. Brian knew most people perhaps considered him cocky, also, but next to this man, he was as bashful as a virgin on her wedding night. _Did he really think people were going to buy this cock and bull shit? _For Justin's sake, he certainly hoped not.

After opening arguments were concluded, the calling of witnesses started, beginning with Lee Keller of Everwatch Security, who recounted Brian's assigning him to watch over Justin and the loft, as well as the man who apparently called impersonating Ted. Ted followed immediately after him, verifying that he was not the man who had called with the cancellation request and correct code.

Carl then was brought to the stand to testify about his knowledge regarding the bug that was placed on Brian's phone, as well as his involvement with his and Brian's attempt to find Justin before he was seriously harmed. Dr. Morrisey from Lancaster General Hospital was also sworn in to testify how seriously ill Justin was when he was initially brought into the hospital, and to verify that GHB had been found in his system. He also indicated that his patient's condition confirmed that the drug would have had to have been administered within a few hours of Justin being admitted.

Before the lunch recess, Prescott's friends, Jack Belden and Vince Comisar, were both called to the stand. Though they were hesitant to incriminate Prescott, they were nevertheless forced to explain their part in how they were recruited to persuade Brian to travel to Chicago and Justin to fly to Lancaster, respectively.

Brian noticed that Justin did not take his eyes off the proceedings, the blond nervously chewing on a fingernail as he no doubt relived some of his ordeal at the hands of his ardent pursuer. Matthews had estimated that at the rate the trial was progressing, Brian and then Justin would be called to testify sometime later this afternoon; Brian only hoped that Justin would persevere through having to be within such close range of the man who had nearly cost him his life. He knew his partner was a lot stronger than most people gave him credit for; however, this experience had clearly rattled him to the core.

As the courtroom eventually called for a lunch recess, Justin, Brian and their supporters stood as Prescott was led temporarily out of the courtroom. Only then did Brian notice Justin breathing a soft sigh of relief.

"You okay?" he asked the younger man.

Justin let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "Yeah, I guess," he sighed. Pursing his lips slightly, he observed, "Looks like you and I might be up next. You think the defense has decided yet whether or not he will testify, too?" Brian didn't need to ask his partner who he was referring to; the worry etched on his face was answer enough.

"I don't know, Sunshine. Greg wasn't sure this morning. And since they've changed their defense to temporary insanity, it's hard to tell if they think it would be wise for that fucker to testify or not." Brian couldn't hide the disgust in his voice; any remote mentioning of Prescott in any way, shape, or form just served to set him off and increase his hatred for the man. And although he would never express it out loud to Justin, he was afraid that Prescott might just somehow be clever or powerful enough to make everyone think he really WAS temporarily out of his mind when he committed those reprehensible acts. He hoped desperately that he would be proven wrong. The brunet DID know one thing, however – he was going to do everything in his power on the witness stand to make sure that everyone in the courtroom knew how despicable Lane Prescott was. Placing his arm around Justin's waist, he pulled the slender man to him, whispering, "Let's get out of here for a while, Sunshine, and go get a bite to eat." Smiling slightly at the man he loved so much, Justin nodded, as he allowed Brian to lead him protectively out the back of the room.

* * *

Fortunately, the courtroom had a small cafeteria in the basement that was off-limits to the vast hoard of media reporters camped outside, allowing both men to grab a bite to eat in relative peace. The rest of their "family" had joined them at an adjacent table, each providing their opinion as to how the morning's opening arguments and testimony had went.

"Well, I was impressed with your attorney, honey," Jennifer reassured her son. "I know he's relatively new, but I think he stood up to Sinclair very well, and was very persuasive."

"I agree with your mom, Sunshine," Debbie said. "I think he's got just enough balls to pull this off. Don't you worry, baby, he's not going to let that son of a bitch walk," she vowed.

"I hope you're right, Deb." Justin couldn't quite keep the doubt out of his voice, however. After all, he had seen what type of "punishment" Chris Hobbs had received; a slap on the wrist would have been more severe than what HE got. His experience with so-called justice up until now had been very disappointing, so he wasn't overly optimistic that this time it would be any different.

"Hang in there, baby," Em said encouragingly. "He's going to get what he deserves. I just know it." He reached over to give his friend a quick hug before releasing him. Brian, to his credit, attempted to remain impassive but didn't quite succeed; Emmett knew how Brian was when it came to anyone handling his man. Yes, logically Brian knew the other man was just a friend, but when it came to Justin, the older man was very possessive of him to the extreme. And after the fiasco with Prescott, he was even MORE so, Emmett decided.

"Thanks, Em, everyone," Justin said, appreciating all their support. Despite their encouragement, however, his stomach was tied up in knots and he had little appetite. The thought of having to look Prescott in the eye later from the witness stand gave him palpations and made him very apprehensive. He was so thankful that Brian would be there to lend him the support he would definitely need.

Glancing up just then, Brian saw Matthews heading into the cafeteria. Noticing their group, he walked directly toward them. Brian once again reached over and grasped Justin's hand as he noticed his partner's body growing rigid; Justin smiled gratefully at him.

"Justin, Brian," he said, nodding his head at the others, also, in acknowledgement. "The recess is about over. I thought before you came back up I'd give you a heads up. Brian, you will be next on the witness stand. All I'm expecting you to do is follow my lead and just tell the truth. But I need to warn you. You need to remain calm. I know how emotionally involved you are with this trial," Greg continued, looking over at his client who was leaning into the older man for support. Their love for each other was obvious to anyone who observed them. "And I think everyone is very aware of your feelings toward the defendant." He held up his hand before Brian tried to speak. "Hear me out. All I'm saying is that I know this judge who is presiding. We're lucky we've got Mason for this trial; everyone I work with says he's fair and impartial, which is important with Sinclair involved. But I also know he will NOT tolerate any type of outbursts from the courtroom. And I'm sure the last thing you want is for a mistrial to be declared."

Brian was about to protest at the implied insult; he could maintain decorum when the need was warranted. But he finally, silently, had to admit the attorney was right. When it came to Justin, everything was black and white. Any hint of mistreatment toward him was met with nothing less than hatred and hostility; he certainly had more than enough of those feelings directed toward Prescott. But he also knew how important it was that they nail this fucker. So if he had to bite his tongue to make sure they succeeded, so be it. "I understand," he said softly, looking tenderly over at his compassionate, too-kind-for-his-own-good partner. "I want that fucking bastard nailed for what he did to Justin."

Justin swallowed the lump in his throat and had to blink back the tears that threatened to fail. He was NOT going to cry in front of everyone. He had to steel himself for what was about to come. But Brian's devotion to him continued to amaze him. Not that Brian was capable of it, but that he was WORTHY of it. _I love this man so much,_ he thought.

"Good," Matthews nodded, pleased. "I'll see you all upstairs, then. We're scheduled to reconvene in about 10 minutes," he reminded them before heading out toward the elevators.

"Ready, Sunshine?" Brian asked, standing up. "Let's do this."

Justin reached up once again to take Brian's hand as he stood up from the table. "I'm ready," he verified. "As long as you're there with me."


	20. Chapter 20: Brian Takes the Stand

Justin nervously fidgeted on the bench seat, almost painfully holding onto Brian's hand. He felt so nervous, almost as if HE were about to testify, rather than Brian.

Sensing her son's nervousness, Jennifer automatically reached over to grasp Justin's other hand; she knew he would need the support while his partner was gone temporarily from his side. For once, Justin did not scorn the motherly gesture, instead thankfully accepting her concern.

Everyone looked up as the side door of the courtroom opened and once again, Prescott came in, followed by both attorneys and the jury. As they stood up, the judge's name was called as he, too, took his seat, front and center to the activity.

As everyone sat down in silence, Justin found out that his attorney had been correct – he heard the bailiff announcing Brian as the next witness. Glancing over at his partner, whose hand he was still tightly holding, Brian smiled back encouragingly and squeezed his slender hand briefly; nodding gratefully at Jennifer, he reluctantly let go of his lover's hand and stood up. His tall frame was straight and shoulders were squared back as he firmly walked up to the front of the room, taking his place next to the witness stand to be sworn in. It seemed to Justin that his partner was deliberately not looking at Prescott; he was apparently taking Greg's advice to avoid making any type of hostile overtures toward the man everyone knew he hated and despised, for fear he could somehow jeopardize the case.

Once Brian was asked for his name and address, the crux of the questioning began by Justin's attorney:

"Mr. Kinney, you are Mr. Taylor's personal partner, is that correct?" Greg questioned.

"That's right," Brian answered firmly with any pause.

"And how long have you and Mr. Taylor been in this relationship?"

Justin and Brian both smiled slightly; that was a little harder to explain. Out loud, Brian tried to verbalize it. "That's a little complicated."

"How so?" the attorney asked.

"Well, we've been together, off and on, for about six years now. But I guess officially we've been serious partners for about a year."

"Okay. And I understand you had a business relationship as well with Mr. Prescott?"

Again, Brian did not look at Prescott, well aware of the anger he could barely control toward the asshole that had almost killed the man he loved. "For a while, yes."

"Would you elaborate on that?" Greg prodded.

"I own Kinnetik, an advertising agency here in Pittsburgh. When I first met him, he was seeking a company to advertise his sportswear line. He came to me for assistance. For a short while, I represented him."

"And what happened to that relationship?"

"It was severed. By mutual agreement," Brian added, unable to entirely hide his sarcasm.

"Can you tell me why?"

Brian hesitated briefly, trying to phrase the answer correctly in his head; the last thing he wanted was to give Prescott's arrogant attorney, Sinclair, any ammunition to use against Justin. "Personal differences," he finally stated.

"Can you be more specific?" Matthews knew he had to tread carefully through these questions, lest they create MORE problems.

Brian was a little startled by the query – Greg had not prepared him to answer THIS one. He only hoped the man knew what he was doing and wasn't opening a fucking can of worms. He glanced a little hesitantly toward Justin, who seemed as nervous as HE was.

Speaking slowly, he answered, "Well, I found out the guy was personally interested in my partner, and he turned it into a fu…damn competition," he finally offered in explanation.

"And you didn't feel like you could conduct business with him under those circumstances?"

_What was Matthews getting at here? Doesn't he realize this is making me look like an ass?_ Sighing a little in frustration, Brian softly answered, "Well, I went along with it at first. But I guess you could say that was what happened eventually."

"Okay. And just how did you find out he was personally interested in Mr. Taylor?"

"He anonymously bid on one of Justin's paintings at an art benefit for an outrageous amount of money with the stipulation that Justin have dinner with him the next evening. When I saw the man coming out of a restaurant the next night with Justin, I recognized him."

Matthews urged him to be more specific. "You mean Lane Prescott?"

"Yes."

"Do you recognize the man you saw that night with Justin, and the man you had a business relationship with?"

"Yes."

"Can you point him out for the record, Mr. Kinney?" Matthews prayed that Brian would keep his cool.

Brian steeled himself to look at the man he totally despised. _I can do this….for Justin._ Taking a fairly deep breath first, he forced himself to turn slightly to his left to look directly at him. Raising his right hand, he confidently pointed his long index finger at Prescott, stating, "That's him over there." _The fucker I'd like to ground to a pulp with my bare hands._ Brian could no longer hide his intense hatred for the man who had put his partner in such jeopardy, as much as he tried; anyone who was observing his testimony at that moment had no problems discerning exactly how the brunet felt. He subconsciously clenched his fists under the witness chair in anger, and his handsome briefly contorted into a quiet rage. The fact that Prescott seemed to take great relish in returning his glare did not help, either, as both men seemed to issue a subliminal dare to each other.

"Let the record show that Mr. Kinney has identified the defendant as Lane Prescott," Matthews intoned, serving to break the pair's silent duel. He continued, "And when you did next see Mr. Prescott?"

"It was the day after I saw him with Justin at the restaurant."

"And where was that?"

"At Kinnetik. He came into the office to discuss some minor changes he wanted to make to his ad campaign."

"And did you mention to him what you saw the night before?" Matthews asked.

"Yes. I told him I saw him and Justin at dinner."

"And what did the defendant say when you told him about that?"

"He told me in no uncertain terms that he wanted Justin, and wasn't going to stop until he had what he wanted. Like Justin was some trophy or something."

"Please, Mr. Kinney, just answer the question simply." Matthews was afraid Brian was going to erupt if he didn't keep in on a narrow course. That was the LAST thing he wanted. Continuing, he asked, "And is this when you and he severed your business relationship?"

"No, it was actually a few days after that. After Prescott had returned to his corporate offices in New York," he clarified.

After Prescott had pulled that stunt about Justin claiming he wanted to go away with him, it was self-evident that he and Prescott could definitely NOT work together.

He explained out loud, "Well, I never spoke directly to him again to officially end the business relationship. But I received a written communiqué from his personal assistant shortly thereafter, verifying that he no longer wanted to be represented by Kinnetik." _Which was just fucking fine with me, you son of a bitch._

Justin listened intently to his partner as he filled in some of the gaps for this unpleasant period in their relationship. He and Brian had discussed vaguely what had happened between him and Prescott, but he had not gone into depth as to what exactly had transpired. The blond found this testimony enlightening to say the least. _I never realized Prescott thought of me as a kind of prize to be won! How arrogant. _He turned again to Brian's testimony as he heard Matthews speaking again.

"And when did you have an opportunity to speak to the defendant again?"

"Well, it wasn't until just lately, when all this other stuff came up with Justin."

"What type of _stuff_, Mr. Kinney?"

"Well, the gifts Justin started receiving from some secret admirer_._" _Here goes_, Brian thought. _This is where we start to NAIL the bastard._

"I see. And when was this?"

"About five months ago," Brian verified.

"And how did it start?"

"Well, Justin started getting gifts delivered from an unnamed courier with notes that were just signed _A Secret Admirer." _

"And what types of gifts were they, specifically?" Matthews needed to establish the expensive nature of these gifts to try and make the jury realize they could not have come from just anyone.

"Well, the first gift was a box of chocolates that we found out cost over $500 a pound." Brian heard a collective gasp rise from both the jury and the courtroom audience at the outrageous cost, invoking a stern "order in the court" admonishment from the judge.

Matthews wasn't surprised by that statement; he already knew, of course, from previous conversations between him, Brian and his client. "And the other gifts?"

"Then, the next one was a platinum bracelet from Tiffany's. The one after that was a basket of paints," Brian stated. _I am NOT going to mention the edible part. Forget it, Prescott._ "Then the last gift was a personalized CD of different songs."

"I see. And you said there were messages with each of them, correct?"

Brian squirmed a little, uncomfortably. He did not really want to get into the context of these very personal messages. "Yes," he answered simply.

Brian cringed a little inside when he noticed Matthews reaching over to the exhibit table and pulling out a crumpled note inside a plastic bag. "Would you take a look at this note, Mr. Kinney, and tell me if you recognize it?"

"Yes," Brian replied softly. _I'm sorry, Sunshine. I wish there was another way._

"Would you tell the courtroom what it is?"

"It's one of the notes Justin received. The one when the CD was delivered."

"Would you read it out loud, please, Mr. Kinney?"

Brian looked over at Justin, whose face was reddening. There was a distinctive hush over the courtoom as he took a deep breath before he spoke, reading the message: "It says, w_hile you listen to this, think of us and the beautiful music we'll soon be making together forever. Anxiously awaiting our reunion. Your Secret Admirer._" Brian could taste the sour bile that immediately rose in his throat as he was forced to relive that day. The anger he felt toward the then unnamed stalker of his partner had not abated; if anything, it had grown even stronger, now that he knew who it was and what the man had tried to do to his lover in the meantime.

"Let the record show that Mr. Kinney was reading from Exhibit E. Thank you, Mr. Kinney," Matthews said, reaching to retrieve the note from the brunet. He really disliked what he had to do, but he felt it was necessary to establish how obsessed Prescott was with his client. Returning the first note to the table, he picked up another plastic bag containing a second note. "Now, Mr. Kinney, please examine this bag and tell me if you recognize the note contained within."

Brian closed his eyes briefly; he felt Justin's humiliation without even having to look at him. "Yes," he sighed. "This was the note that came with the paints." _Please don't make me do this_, he pleaded to the attorney silently.

"Please read the note aloud," Matthews instructed, silently apologizing to both men for having to subject them to this embarrassment.

Brian took another deep breath. _This_ _is so fucking difficult. Damn you, Matthews, you better have a good reason for this_. Bracing himself, he didn't dare look at Justin this time. He didn't have to. Softly, he read, "I can't wait to rub these paints all over your delicious body and lick them off, one inch at a time. Your secret admirer." Brian couldn't help glaring over once again at Prescott, who seemed oblivious to the great embarrassment he was causing; rather, to Brian he almost seemed PLEASED with himself. _You fucker – let's see how you look when they send your ass to jail for the rest of your life!_

Justin pulled his hand from his mom's and covered his eyes in shame; he had never shown these notes to anyone else except Brian and Carl. He could feel the heat from his face as it turned a deep shade of red. How could he face his friends and his mother after this? _I wish I could crawl into a hole somewhere._ Just as he thought his shame could not be any greater, he heard the words he was dreading to hear. He watched as if in slow motion as Matthews asked the court to verify the second note as Exhibit F, then proceeded to pick up the other two notes in succession and again make Brian read them out loud before identifying them as well. Justin couldn't bear to look at Brian as he was forced to read – he could feel his partner's pain just by his choked, emotion-filled voice.

Brian breathed an internal sigh of relief when Matthews finally moved onto a new line of questioning. "Now, Mr. Kinney, let me clarify something. You did not actually know that Prescott was your partner's secret admirer at first, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"So how did you determine he was behind the gifts?"

"It wasn't until I was coming back from Chicago on business and I called Lee Keller at Everwatch Security to check on the security detail I had set up for the loft. I was concerned because I couldn't reach Justin on his cell phone," he explained.

"It was previously stated by Mr. Keller that you asked him to assign three of his men to watch the loft that you and Mr. Taylor share during your absence, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"So how did you know the defendant was your partner's secret admirer?"

"Well, I found out from Mr. Keller that someone who was purporting to be my comptroller, Ted Schmidt, had called him the day I left to tell him I was cancelling the security detail effective immediately."

"And how did you know it WASN'T Mr. Schmidt?"

"Because I called Ted at Kinnetik and verified he didn't even know that I had placed a security detail at the loft, much less called Everwatch to have it cancelled."

"But Mr. Keller WAS given the correct security code, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Do you know how this man who called him knew about it?"

"At the time, no. I only found out later from the police that there was a wiretap on my landline phone at home. So I assume that is how the man got the security code."

"So to go back to my original question – at what point did you suspect the defendant was behind all the gifts to your partner?"

"When Ted told me about a message I had had delivered to Kinnetik by an unnamed courier. I asked him to read it to me over the phone."

Reaching again toward the exhibit table, Matthews picked up a plastic bag containing a typed, 8 ½ by 11" unfolded, white piece of paper. "Do you recognize this as the letter you received at Kinnetik?" he asked, handing the bag to Brian.

Brian scanned it briefly before nodding. "Yes."

"Would you read it aloud, please?" Matthews once again asked him.

This time, Brian didn't have a problem reading it. _I'm_ _about to nail your ass to the wall, Prescott_. In a clear voice, he read, "I told you I don't stop until I get what I want. He's where he belongs now."

Matthews prodded him, "So what made you feel the gifts were from the defendant?"

Brian explained, "Because of a previous conversation I had had with him at Kinnetik shortly after I found out he was interested in Justin."

"And just what did he say that made you think he was involved with the gifts your partner was anonymously receiving?"

"During our previous conversation, he had told me in no uncertain terms that if he wanted something, he went after it until he got it. And that he didn't stop UNTIL he got it. I just knew he was behind all of it then," he stated with conviction. "And it turns out I was right," he added pointedly, not bothering this time to avoid looking at the man who had turned both his and Justin's lives into a living hell. Staring at him with barely unconcealed fury, he thought, w_ell, you fucker, this is where YOUR hell begins._

"Okay. So you finally determined that it was Prescott. What did you do then to locate him?" Matthews inquired.

"I finally found out from a friend that Justin had taken an art assignment for someone and had been flown to Lancaster to help set the painting up at this restaurant he was remodeling. I thought that was too big a coincidence. So I did some digging on the internet about this guy, Vince Comisar, and determined which restaurant he owned in Lancaster. Carl Horvath from the Pittsburgh PD and I flew there immediately to confront Comisar at the restaurant. That's when he admitted that he had set up Justin to come there for a reunion with Prescott, who I found out later was an old childhood friend of his."

"And was Justin at the restaurant when you get there?"

Brian hesitated as he attempted to swallow a lump in his throat and avoid thinking of what could have happened to his partner. "No. Comisar told me and Carl that Prescott had carried Justin down to his yacht at the marina, telling him that he had had too much to drink and he was going to let him sleep it off," he said angrily. _You asshole. I could kill you for what you did to him._

"Did you go down to the marina to confront him?" Matthews asked.

"No," Brian verified, "because Comisar told us that he had seen his yacht leave the marina shortly after he carried Justin down there."

"So what did you and Detective Horvath do then?"

"We managed to talk some guy who owned a speedboat at the marina into helping us go after him. Comisar had told us which way he had gone. Carl called the Lancaster PD on his cell and proved to them that we were legitimate. They agreed to meet us coming from the other direction."

"And did you catch up with his yacht?" Matthews queried.

"Yes," Brian confirmed. "We found him moored in a cove several miles down the river. The police showed up at about the same time and took him and two of his crewmen into custody."

"And Mr. Taylor was on the yacht as well?"

"Yes," Brian answered, his voice once again choked with emotion. "The paramedic on board the patrol board found him unconscious inside the master cabin." Again he could not prevent his hazel eyes from boring into the man seated at the defense table. _Just give me a minute alone with you, asshole. That is all I need to strangle you with my bare hands._

"But Mr. Taylor was taken to Lancaster General Hospital for treatment and recovered fully, correct?" Matthews stated.

The brunet looked tenderly over at his partner, the man who meant more to him than he ever thought possible. He noticed Justin returning his gaze, his beautiful eyes shining more than normal due to the unshed tears that welled up there. "Yes, he did," he verified, smiling in relief.

"And before Prescott was taken into custody, did you have an opportunity to speak with him?"

Brian's voice took on a steely tone as he confirmed, "Yes, I did."

"And what did you say to him?"

"Do you want the exact words?" he asked the attorney pointedly.

"Yes," Matthews verified. He already spoken to Brian before about this conversation, and felt it was important that the jury hear the exact conversation, profanity or not.

As Justin held his breath, Brian repeated the vow he had spoken to Prescott that day. "I told him if I ever got the chance to be alone with him, I would fucking KILL him," he verified, his voice resonating throughout the courtroom, "and that if he really thought in his fucked-up mind that he cared about Justin, he would tell me what he gave him before it KILLED him." Finally, Prescott had the grace to look away embarrassed and somewhat fearfully as Brian repeated his threat to the man who had almost turned his world upside down.

"And did Prescott answer you?" Matthews prodded, as the courtroom held its collective breath waiting for his response.

"Yes," Brian confirmed.

"And what did he say?" Matthews asked.

"He told me it was GHB. That he hadn't meant to hurt him," he added, snorting in disgust now. "That he LOVED him and just wanted to BE with him." The brunet made no attempt this time to hide his utter contempt for Prescott, glaring openly once again at him. This time Prescott simply scowled at him in hatred.

"Thank you, Mr. Kinney. I have no further questions at this time." Matthews then turned to the judge. "Your honor, in light of the time, I would like to ask that we dismiss for the day."

Judge Mason peered at the courtroom clock, which now read 4:15 p.m. "Agreed. The defense attorney will cross-examine this witness tomorrow. Please remember you will still be under oath, Mr. Kinney," he reminded Brian. Rapping his gavel authoritatively, he announced, "This court is now in recess until 9:00 a.m. tomorrow."


	21. Chapter 21: The Cross Examination

Brian was thankful that he and Justin were able to escape out the back of the courthouse after the trial adjourned for the day, shielded from the boisterous, pushy crowd that was planted outside the front entrance waiting like a pack of wolves, hungry for their latest bit of salacious news.

Keeping an arm wrapped firmly around Justin's waist, he cast a concerned glance at his partner, who hadn't said anything since the trial ended for the day. He could feel the younger man trembling slightly, from what exactly he wasn't sure. As they walked toward Brian's car in the parking garage, he squeezed the slender waist a little to get his attention and he bent down closer to whisper near his ear. "Are you all right, Sunshine?" After several seconds with no obvious response, he was really starting to get concerned. "Justin?" He stopped and leaned against the car now, turning his partner to face him. "Talk to me," he encouraged tenderly.

The long lashes closed briefly, before tearful blue eyes slowly rose to meet Brian's. "I had no idea how hard today was going to be," he admitted softly. "It was so embarrassing, Brian," he explained. "I feel so ashamed." He looked down, averting his gaze now.

Brian gently placed his long fingers under Justin's chin, gently forcing the man to meet his stare. "Justin, you have NOTHING to be ashamed of, do you hear me? Why in the fuck would you think that, Sunshine?"

Brian's compassion only served to make Justin even more emotional, as he answered in a shaky voice, "I should have realized that it was him. How could I have not seen it? How could I have been so blind, Brian?" he asked. Pausing for a few seconds, he finally added, "I'm sorry I have to put you through all this."

"Put me through what, Justin?" Brian asked, a bit of fierceness unexpectedly rising to the surface. "Put me through telling everyone what an arrogant, pompous, conniving and dangerous asshole Prescott is? Put me through making sure he's put away forever so he can never try and hurt you anymore?" Abruptly pulling his partner into a strong embrace, he murmured against the other man's hair, "I love you, Justin. Don't EVER apologize for making me do what I need to do in order to keep you safe."

Justin's arms wrapped themselves tightly around Brian's waist as his heart warmed to his partner's words of comfort. The two remained in a fierce embrace for several seconds, before they both broke loose of their own accord. Brian reached up with both thumbs to gently brush Justin's tears off his cheeks. The blond smiled slightly as he said, "Let's go home, Brian. I want you to fuck me all night long and make me forget for a while."

Brian smiled at the man he loved tenderly. "THAT will be my distinct pleasure, Sunshine," he confirmed, opening the passenger door for Justin.

* * *

Waking up the next morning in Brian's arms after several combination rounds of just-down-and out fucking mixed in with some tender lovemaking made Justin feel much better. He felt his partner slowly waking up as the long, lean arms moved slightly and the sun's early morning shadows played over his handsome face. Justin had fallen in love at first sight with this loft in Lawrenceville, even before he realized that it would be his new home, THEIR home. And one of his favorite parts of the upstairs living quarters was the pair of sunroof windows that allowed the rising sun to flow into the bedroom each morning. Even though Justin would never be mistaken for an early riser, he enjoyed being the first one to wake up here, so he could indulge in one of his favorite pastimes – gazing at Brian while he was still asleep. While his partner slept, all of the bravado and bold façade fell away, leaving the loving, vulnerable person only Justin was privileged to see.

Brian's hazel eyes, still somewhat cloudy from sleep, slowly fluttered open, becoming clearer as he focused on his favorite view. "Hey, Sunshine," he said softly, reaching up to brush an errant stray hand from the blond's head. "How did you sleep? After I fucked you senseless, I mean," he added wickedly.

"Better," Justin confirmed. "Of course, you DID wear me out first. That ALWAYS makes me sleep better," he answered, as the other man raised his eyebrows innocently.

"Just as good as Ben Gay, Sunshine – deep, penetrating heat does it every time," he explained, causing Justin to roll his eyes. "Besides, if I recall correctly, you fucking gave back as good as you got," he answered, smirking, as Justin bent down to give him a small kiss.

"What was THAT? Are you THAT worn out, you twat?" he asked, before reaching his hand around the blond head to abruptly yank his partner's body down, his entire length suddenly stretched completely prone against the brunet's. "That's better," Brian murmured, before firmly pushing their mouths together to conduct a little tongue-fucking. A couple of minutes later, the two men reluctantly pulled apart, panting breathlessly . "Ah, Sunshine, so MUCH to do, so little time, unfortunately. We only have about 90 minutes before the trial reconvenes. That's barely enough time for a quick shower and change of clothes. Not NEARLY enough time for what I'd LIKE to do with you."

Brian regretted mentioning the trial as soon as the statement left his mouth; the pained look that quickly appeared on his partner's face confirmed that Justin was thinking again about the trial and Brian going back up on the witness stand. Reaching up to lovingly caress the soft, blond hair, he tried his best to reassure him. "Look at me, Justin. It's all going to work out. I know it's hard, but we have to do this. To make sure that bastard is put away for a LONG, LONG time. And when it comes your turn to testify, I'll be there with you every step of the way. When you think you're going to falter, you just look at me and no one else - okay?"

Taking a deep breath, the topaz eyes stared back at him. Finally, a response: "Okay," he agreed. Smiling slightly, Brian reluctantly released his hold on his partner and rose from the bed. Reaching out his hand to Justin, he said, "Come on, then, let's go take that shower and get ready."

* * *

Justin was grateful that Greg had told him about the back door; despite the burgeoning media crowd outside, thanks to the other entrance they were able to slip inside unnoticed by the press. As soon as they rounded the corner toward the Courtroom #B, the two men noticed the prosecuting attorney waiting for them just outside the door.

"Good. I'm glad you got here a little early," Greg said. He turned to Brian as he instructed him seriously, "I just wanted to remind you, Brian, that it's extremely important you keep your cool in there while Sinclair is cross examining you. If I feel he's out of line, I'll definitely call him on it. And don't forget, as the prosecutor, I will have the opportunity to ask you additional questions for clarification or rebuttal purposes during the redirect. So if you feel Sinclair is trying to slant anything toward his client, don't worry – I will definitely follow up on it."

He then turned toward Justin, advising him, "You will be the next witness after Brian." As Justin nodded his understanding, he added, "I still don't know for sure if Prescott will be testifying in his own defense. I think he and Sinclair are most likely waiting until after the two of you testify to see if they feel it would be in his best interest. If Prescott DOES testify, of course, that opens him up for ME to cross-examine him, which could do him more harm than good. So we'll have to wait and see what happens. Just tell the truth. I think after the two of you are finished, Prescott will have more than enough NAILS in his coffin."

Justin took another deep breath, letting it out in a rush. "I hope you're right, Greg. The thought of this guy running around free makes me nervous as hell." Brian certainly had to agree with that statement; the only good thing that had come out of Justin's ordeal was that he did not remember what happened right after he was given the GHB; in an ironic way, that may have saved him from having more nightmares than he had been having, although when he DID have them, they were enough for the blond to awaken terrified, drenched in sweat and his hair plastered to his forehead. Only after several minutes of Brian holding him tightly and caressing his back softly did Justin calm down enough to try and go back to sleep. Brian didn't even want to think about the nightly horror Justin would endure if this man were allowed to walk out of here with a not guilty verdict.

"Ready?" Greg asked them, receiving an affirmative nod in return. As he held the door open for them to enter, Justin noticed that his mother and friends were once again in attendance, a silent, strong symbol of their affection and support for him. He smiled at everyone as they noticed him and Brian arriving; he would definitely need their reinforcement, especially while Brian was being cross-examined. And as much as Brian would probably deny it, HE needed it, too.

As Justin went to take his seat beside his mother, Greg told Brian, "You'll be recalled as soon as the trial resumes shortly, so be ready." Matthews then proceeded to walk toward the prosecution table up front.

Brian acknowledged their support group as he once again took his place next to Justin, reaching automatically for his partner's hand as he sat down on the courtroom bench. Shortly thereafter, they all stood up as the bailiff announced the return of the jury, judge, and the defendant. Just like the day before, Prescott was perfectly dressed in a dark gray, Armani suit with a white tailored shirt and royal blue tie. _Enjoy your fashion show while you can, you fucker,_ Brian thought. _I hope your skin doesn't look too pale next to the orange and white stripes._

"This court is now is session. The Honorable Judge George Mason presiding. Please be seated," the bailiff instructed.

As everyone took a seat, the judge instructed the bailiff to call the last witness to the stand. As Brian's name was announced, he briefly squeezed Justin's hand before releasing it and giving him an hopeful smile ; standing, he walked once again back toward the witness stand, never providing Prescott with so much as a backward glance of recognition as he was reminded that he was still under oath.

Wyatt Sinclair, also attired in an expensive, custom-made suit, salt-and pepper hair perfectly styled, rose fluidly from his chair to face Brian.

"Now, Mr. Kinney," he began pleasantly enough. "You testified yesterday about your business relationship with Mr. Prescott. How much did you know about my client before the two of you met?"

"Well, I always do research on prospective clients, so this was no exception."

"And what types of information do you obtain during your research?"

"Normally it involves information about their background – where they attended school, where they live, their hobbies, as well as financial information."

"The reason being?"

"It helps me formulate the best approach for my initial meeting with them, as well as showing the prospective client how much I want their business."

"And what was your impression of Mr. Prescott when you did research on him?"

"Well, I found out he was very influential and powerful within the fashion industry, and was very successful at what he did."

"And once you met him? What was your personal impression of him?"

Puzzled, Brian asked for clarification. "I'm not sure I understand the question. My personal impression of him?"

Sinclair smiled slightly, almost predatorily, appearing as if he was only trying to make Brian relax. "Yes. Did you find him attractive, Mr. Kinney? Isn't it true that you were FLIRTING with my client during that meeting?" Justin closed his eyes as Sinclair addressed his partner; somehow, he knew it was no doubt the truth. At that point in their relationship, they weren't even together; it would have made perfect sense for Brian to be attracted to a man that was as powerful and handsome as Lane.

Before Brian could even formulate a response, however, the prosecuting attorney rose to his feet swiftly. "Objection, Your Honor!" he stated sharply. "There is NO relevance to that question."

"Sustained, Mr. Matthews. Please keep to the facts at hand, Mr. Sinclair," the judge admonished him.

"I apologize, Your Honor," Sinclair responded smoothly. Taking a slightly different tack, he attempted to rephrase the question. "Okay, Mr. Kinney. Tell me how your first meeting with Mr. Prescott went?"

"Again, I'm not sure what you mean." _Could this man be any more obtuse with this line of questioning? Just what is he getting at here?_

"What was the result of your meeting? Did he sign on as a client of yours?"

"Yes, he did," Brian confirmed.

"Okay. At the time of your first meeting, did Mr. Prescott mention he was going to be attending a benefit auction for the local gay and lesbian center?"

"Yes, he mentioned it before he left."

"And did my client ask you to go?"

"He mentioned he had an extra ticket and gave it to me in case I could attend," Brian explained carefully. "He said it might be helpful to his advertising campaign if I were to see some of his fashions in person."

"I see. And did you go?"

"Yes, I did."

"WITH Mr. Prescott?"

"Actually, I didn't know he was there until later. I came separately."

"And was it not at this auction that Mr. Prescott bid on a painting by Mr. Taylor, your partner?"

Brian hesitated. "Well, he DID bid on a painting, but at that point in time Justin and I were NOT partners. We had broken up," he said, elaborating. _Sorry, Greg,_ he thought. _I know - too much information_.

Sinclair, however, was quick to pick up on any information he was given. "You were not together at that time?" he prodded.

"That's correct," Brian reluctantly divulged. "We remained friends, but we had broken up."

"Isn't it true, however, Mr. Kinney, that once Mr. Prescott had successfully obtained Mr. Taylor's agreement to have dinner with him the following evening, you arranged for an off-duty policeman to FOLLOW the two of them during their date together?"

"Yes, that's true," Brian stated without apology. "I was concerned for his safety," Brian explained. As an afterthought almost, he continued, "And it WASN'T a date. Justin was simply following through on a commitment he had made to the GLC. By agreeing to have dinner with Prescott, he was able to obtain a contribution of $50,000 toward the Vince Grassi House." Brian thought he saw Matthew's eyebrows draw together in disapproval at his being too free with handing out information.

"I see," Sinclair acknowledged. "Would you not agree, however, that Prescott's interest in Mr. Taylor instigated your dislike of him?"

Before he could really think it through, Brian rashly answered. "Not exactly. It was his RUDE, POMPOUS, and ARROGANT attitude that irritated me the most!"

Matthews rose hastily from his seat as the crowd murmured loudly, causing the Judge to issue a stern warning for order. As the volume died down and the courtroom audience became silent, the prosecuting attorney slowly sat back down, still somewhat on edge. This was partly what he was afraid would happen between his witness and the fiery defense attorney.

Appearing unflappable by Brian's clear disgust for his client, Sinclair continued his questioning. "Mr. Kinney, is it not true that Mr. Taylor not only went out to dinner with my client the day after the benefit, but actually agreed to go out with him again?"

"You'd have to ask HIM that," Brian responded, clearly annoyed. The less he thought about Prescott and Justin's little sojourn to the Big Apple, the better off he was. That was a period in his and Justin's relationship he would just as soon FORGET.

"Are you saying you were not aware that the two of them had another tryst after the first dinner?" Sinclair asked pointedly.

Out and out angry now that Sinclair was continuing to press him on a most unpleasant subject, Brian almost shouted, "It was NOT a fucking tryst! They just had dinner and went to a goddamn museum!"

"Order!" Judge Mason bellowed. Turning to Matthews, he sternly lectured, "Counselor, kindly tell your witness that if he continues to conduct himself in this manner, he will be subject to a contempt of court order! I will NOT tolerate profanity or disrespect in this courtroom! Is that clear, counselor?" he asked, eyes peering out from his glasses as if he were a school marm.

"Yes, Your Honor." Matthews acknowledged. "Might I have a brief recess to address my witness, Your Honor?"

"Make it VERY brief, Counselor," the judge warned.

As Sinclair nodded to him briefly and turned to sit down, Matthews approached Brian, who was looking suspiciously like a puppy about to be scolded. "Brian, what did I tell you?" Matthews asked him in a guarded whisper. "You are NOT going to help Justin's case if you allow your emotions to rule your answers. You have GOT to keep your cool and not come off like some jealous, lovesick schoolboy! Do you understand?" he asked him pointedly.

Brian rolled his eyes and sighed before finally answering, "Yes, I understand. I don't like it or HIM. But I will try – for Justin's sake." Shaking his head in understanding, Matthews indicated to the judge he was ready to proceed.

Sinclair once again rose to resume his questioning, as Justin continued to stare at the drama unfolding in front of him. _That man is trying to make Brian look bad in hopes Prescott won't come off as an evil guy here. Well, Sinclair, just wait until I get up there_, he vowed.

"Now, Mr. Kinney. Let's move on to the security detail you set up for your loft in Lawrenceville. You stated previously that Mr. Keller told you your associate, Mr. Schmidt, had called in to cancel the detail."

"That's right," Brian answered a little warily.

"But you insist it wasn't Mr. Schmidt that called in to cancel it after all?"

"That's correct."

"Do you have any proof that it was NOT Mr. Schmidt that called in, or that Mr. Prescott, in fact, was behind the cancellation?"

Brian's normal confident, cocky manner stalled slightly as he stammered, "Well, no, but Ted told me he didn't do it."

"Isn't it actually correct, Mr. Kinney, that your comptroller, Mr. Schmidt, has a prior arrest record?"

"That has nothing to…."

"Just answer the question yes or no, Mr. Kinney."

Justin gasped a little. _Poor Ted. Why does his name have to be dragged through the mud here? How low will this man stoop?_

"Objection, Your Honor! That question has no relevance." Matthews insisted, once again standing to address the judge.

Mason paused a few seconds to consider. "I will allow the question, Mr. Matthews. Overruled. The witness may answer the question."

Brian glared at Sinclair for a few seconds. "Yes," he finally hissed at him.

Satisfied, Sinclair advised, "I have no further questions for this witness, Your Honor," he declared, returning to his table to take his seat.

"Mr. Matthews? Redirect?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Mr. Kinney, when Mr. Prescott met with you at Kinnetik, did you indeed make a pass at him?"

_What the fuck is Matthews DOING? Didn't he object to that kind of question before when Sinclair asked it?_

Even Sinclair appeared surprised by the prosecuting attorney's question. "Mr. Kinney?" Matthews pressed.

Furrowing his brows in anger, Brian silently prayed that Matthews knew what the hell he was doing before finally answering, "I guess you could say that."

"And what happened when you did?"

Brian swallowed hard before answering; he really was uncomfortable discussing this subject in front of Justin. The two of them had never really addressed this privately before; in fact, he didn't even think Justin was aware of the fact. Unbeknownst to Brian, however, Justin's reaction was not one of surprise at hearing this admission; after all, Justin knew it had been second nature to Brian to make a move on anything attractive that had a dick, at least until they made a commitment of monogamy. He knew Brian had changed since then and he no longer had any reason to doubt his love or dedication to him.

Calming himself before answering, he supplied, "Well, he said he found me attractive, but he made it a policy not to mix business with pleasure."

"And what was your reaction? Did you continue to pursue him?"

_How could I have EVER thought that smug asshole was attractive? _Brian wondered silently before answering the attorney. "No. I didn't," he responded firmly. "I suppose at first I was disappointed a little," he admitted truthfully, "but I thought it was HIS loss, not mine."

Matthews smiled a little. "I see. And as for Mr. Schmidt, what type of employee would you say he has been for Kinnetik?"

Brian answered truthfully, "He's been a tremendous help to me and Kinnetik. He's made extremely wise business decisions that have resulted in the company being very profitable since the first year it was created, and he even filled in for me when I was seriously ill," the brunet answered in a rare admission of his previous health scare. "I trust him implicitly," he summed it up.

"Thank you, Mr. Kinney." Turning to the judge, he verified, "I have no further questions for this witness."

"In that case, you may step down, Mr. Kinney," the judge instructed. Brian risked one intense glare at Prescott before walking through the swinging door separating the front of the courtroom from the audience in attendance. He stepped resolutely toward Justin, trying to gauge his partner's reaction on his face. He sighed in relief inwardly as he saw Justin give him a tender smile in return, reaching out a slender hand to grasp the brunet's as Brian took a seat beside him. "We okay, Sunshine?" he asked him briefly.

Justin nodded before whispering a reassuring, "Yeah, Brian, we're okay," to his partner. Brian couldn't contain his relief and lifted his other free hand to briefly caress the blond's cheek. "I'm glad," he verified, smiling tenderly.

Both men looked up as the judge made an announcement to the courtroom that the trial was recessing for lunch. As the crowd dispersed for an hour, Brian and Justin remained seated, politely declining invitations from Jennifer and their friends to accompany them down to the cafeteria. Soon they were left alone, with only their thoughts on how Brian's testimony went and worry over Justin's upcoming appearance on the witness stand that afternoon.

"Justin? Brian?" Greg Matthews appeared seemingly out of nowhere, temporarily disrupting their privacy. Smiling a little apologetically at the two, Matthews explained, "I'm sorry if you thought I was out of line asking about your first meeting with Prescott, Brian. But I felt it was important to stress to the jury that you were not some aggressive pursuer of the guy, and that your testimony wasn't tainted by some anger over being turned down and wanting to take retribution. I have no doubt that Sinclair was going to make you out to be some kind of sore loser over who wound up with his client, you or Justin."

"But that is totally fucked!" Justin insisted.

"I know," he reassured him. "But I need to make sure the jury focuses on Prescott's actions and doesn't get deterred by some scheme of Sinclair's to discredit either Brian or one of his employees. The man is just desperate to get his client acquitted. But Prescott's actions could have cost you your life," he said. "So trust me, before this trial is over, I am going to prove that all the preparations he underwent make it clear that no one who was insane, temporarily or otherwise, could have carried out what he accomplished. He may have been obsessed with you, but this man's mind was as clear as a bell, I have no doubt. And before we're done, the jury won't have any doubt, either."

The man's confidence helped to diffuse some of Justin's fear about the outcome. "I hope you're right, Greg," he said, still nervous about his upcoming testimony.

"We're going to nail him, Justin, don't you worry. But I won't kid you. Your testimony is going to be key to the whole thing. I can't stress how important it will be."

"Don't you worry, Greg," Brian assured him. "Justin's a LOT stronger than you know. He's going to kick his ass," he said, proudly looking at his partner, who smiled at the brunet's confidence in him.

"Well, I'd better get back to the table. I'll see you shortly. You might want to go get a quick bite to eat to help settle your nerves," he suggested, before turning toward the front of the room.

"I think he's right, Sunshine," Brian responded. "You should try to eat a little something - come on." He gently pulled his partner up, placing a hand around his waist. "Everything's going to be fine," he reassured him once again. "This will all be behind us soon."

_I hope you're right, Brian, _Justin thought silently, as he followed him out the rear door and toward the cafeteria.


	22. Chapter 22: Test of Strength

Brian watched as Justin picked at his food, mainly moving it around on his plate instead of eating it. "Justin," he gently scolded his partner. "Greg said to EAT your food, not set it up artistically to draw a still life of it."

"Huh?" Justin answered, as he raised his eyes from his plate to peer at his partner. He hadn't really been paying attention to Brian, unable to keep his thoughts from straying toward what was about to happen. His stomach was tied up in knots and he felt like he was going to be ill.

Brian sighed softly in exasperation. "I said, you need to EAT something, Sunshine. You don't look so good."

The sarcastic retort he was about to say died on his lips as he looked at the concerned face of his partner. Instead, he took a deep breath and let it out, answering truthfully, "I really don't think I can eat anything. My stomach is churning and I feel nauseous. My fucking nerves are totally on edge."

Brian smiled sympathetically as he reached over to tenderly grasp the blond's hand. "I know. I wish there was something I could do. But we both know how important it is that you testify. The whole case hinges on it, Justin." He continued to hold his partner's hand as he caressed it with his thumb.

Justin looked at him lovingly. "You ARE doing something, Brian, just by being here. I couldn't do any of this without you, you know," he admitted. "If you weren't in that courtroom, I would be totally paralyzed in there." He shivered suddenly as he thought about going back into the room. "Just the thought of being that close to him again, and having him staring at me as I testify, makes me nervous as hell and totally sick to my stomach."

"I know, Sunshine," Brian answered softly. "That's why when you're testifying, you look at ME, NOT that bastard. Don't give him that power over you. Don't fall for his game. You've come out of a lot of tough situations before, and you're going to do it again," he reminded him.

Biting his lip, Justin said, "I know, but I also know how tough Sinclair can be on cross-examination. I mean, look what he tried to do to you. And you're a tough son of a bitch," he told his partner, drawing a mock look of outrage from Brian before noticing the other man's lips curl under into a slight smirk.

"Yeah, well, I may be a pit bull, but underneath that blond twinkie exterior is the hide of a fucking grizzly bear when he needs to be," he replied, half-kidding, as his expression turned serious. "You have an inner strength a lot of people aren't aware of. You just need to draw upon that, and it will get you through this, okay?" Hazel eyes stared deeply into sapphire-blue ones as his eyebrows raised, waiting for a response from his partner.

Justin sighed as he took a breath; looking at the cafeteria clock, he noticed the lunch recess was about over. As he stood up and twisted his neck back and forth to try and relieve some of the tension in his shoulders, he looked at the man he loved and answered, "Okay." As Brian stood up from his chair to join him, Justin added, "But that's not the only strength I'll be drawing on," as he reached up and gave the older man a quick, tender kiss on the lips. Brian briefly massaged Justin's shoulders before they both walked arm in arm toward the cafeteria door.

* * *

Greg was waiting anxiously for them as they came into the courtroom; spying them, he motioned for the two men to take a seat at the back of the room away from the rest of the spectators.

"Justin, you will be called to testify as soon as the trial reconvenes," he confirmed, causing the blond's nerves once again to do flip flops in his stomach. Justin nodded his understanding as he took another deep breath to try and release some of his tension. He was absolutely dreading this moment, but he knew there was no other way. He looked briefly at Brian, who smiled at him slightly in support, before Greg spoke again.

"I just want to remind you, also, NOT to volunteer any extra information. Just answer whatever questions I give you as succinctly and briefly as possible. If I feel you need to supply additional information, I will prompt you for it. We don't want to give Sinclair any possible extra ammunition that he thinks can be used either against you or FOR his client. Understood?" he asked, looking at both men for an affirmative answer.

"Yeah, Greg, I understand," Justin agreed. "You're the one with the ball." Suddenly realizing the irony of what he said, Justin couldn't help looking over at Brian, who also noticed the absurdity of what he just said. In an attempt to lighten the mood, Brian replied, "Do you mind if you don't quite phrase it that way, Sunshine?" he asked, smirking. Brian was heartened to see that at least he could get a small laugh from his partner with that statement.

"Just a little inside humor," Justin explained as he noticed the attorney's puzzled expression.

Greg nodded, still a little befuddled, but glad that at least the two of them could joke even in the midst of such a tense situation. "Well, I'll see you shortly, then," he told Justin, as he left them to take his place at the defense attorney's table.

Justin turned to Brian as soon as Greg had left. "Brian, will you sit closer to the front while I testify?" he implored. "I want you nearby while I'm up there."

"Of course," he answered immediately, although Justin should have known by now that Brian could never say no to those beautiful blue eyes, anyway. "I'll be sitting on the opposite side from HIM, though, behind the defense table," he advised. "I don't want you to be looking anywhere NEAR that son of a bitch," he growled. Brian just could not manage to even say that asshole's name; he didn't deserve the respect.

Justin once again took Brian's hand and grasped it firmly; he hated to feel so needy, but he just didn't think he could do this without his partner.

"Come on, Sunshine," Brian said affectionately, giving his partner's hand a returning squeeze as he stood up and gently pulled the other man to join him. "Let's go find a closer seat before everyone else comes in."

Both men received smiles and sympathetic glances from Jennifer and the rest of their "family" as they passed them in their seats; they were fortunate to find a location behind Greg only three rows behind him. They noticed most of the crowd was now filtering back into the courtroom; soon after, Justin chewed on a fingernail and watched warily as Lane once again re-entered the side door, followed by Sinclair and the jury. Brian reached over and placed his arm around the blond's shoulder in a show of support as Prescott walked in front of Justin; he felt his partner's sharp intake of breath as he noticed Prescott turn to look directly at Justin as he passed. Brian's blood boiled and his face flushed in anger as he saw the man looking at Justin with an odd expression on his face; what kind of exact expression he wasn't quite sure – a smile of recognition with a hint of smugness, perhaps? He didn't know precisely, but he DID know he didn't LIKE it at all. He tried unsuccessfully to glare directly at the son of a bitch, but the man only seemed to have eyes for Justin before he sat back down in the defendant's chair. _That fucker_.

Brian squeezed Justin's shoulder to try and calm him, as the blond flashed him a look of gratitude. They stood up briefly as they heard the bailiff announcing the return of Judge Mason. As they returned to their seats, Justin felt his breath quicken as he realized what was about to happen next.

"Counselor, will you please call your next witness?" the judge instructed Matthews.

"Yes, Your Honor," Greg politely answered as he stood to address the courtroom. "The defense calls Justin Taylor to the witness stand."

"Justin Taylor, will you please approach the bench," the bailiff called out.

Justin felt everyone's eyes bore into him and the collective whispers as he squeezed Brian's hand hard before standing up. As much as he wished Brian could be up there with him, he knew it wasn't possible. He nodded to his partner as an unspoken, but clearly shared communication passed between them, before Justin reluctantly released his hold on Brian's hand and, taking another deep breath, stood up to walk toward the witness stand. As he turned around, he concentrated on staring at Brian and no one else; he didn't dare risk taking a glance to his left where Lane sat, even though he could swear he could feel the man's eyes staring intently at him as he stood near the witness chair to be sworn in. He continued to look directly at Brian as he sat down; it was only when Greg began to speak that he finally broke his concentration on his partner and looked instead at the defense attorney.

"Mr. Taylor, can you tell me what you do for a living?" Greg began.

_Well, at least that's an easy question. _"I'm an artist. I own an art studio in Lawrenceville."

"I see. And how long have you been an artist?"

"Do you mean as far as making a living at it?"

"Uh, yes, that would be correct," the attorney verified.

"Well, I've owned my own studio for about a year now," he explained. "But I began to make some money with my art shortly after I got out of high school. It wasn't enough to actually make a living with it, though," he offered in explanation.

"I see. And in your position as an artist, did you have an occasion to contribute to a benefit with the Gay and Lesbian Center at the Belpre Hotel downtown?"

"Yes, I did. A friend of mine who's actively involved with the center was familiar with my work and asked if I would contribute a painting for the auction part of the benefit."

"Okay. And did you actually attend the benefit?" Greg asked.

"Yes."

"And was this where you first met the defendant?"

Justin nervously felt his heartbeat speeding up at the mention of Lane. "No, not really."

"What do you mean, not really?" Greg pressed.

"Well, Lane was the one who wound up being the winning bidder for my painting, but I didn't actually find out his identity until the following day," Justin explained.

"And that's because, as Mr. Kinney explained during his testimony, the defendant successfully bid on it anonymously?"

"That's correct."

"Okay. Then when was the first time you actually met the defendant?"

"It was the next day when we had dinner together." Justin silently recalled how nervous he was that night not knowing who he would be meeting; of course, that was nothing compared to how nervous he felt right now. As the butterflies continued to flutter in his stomach, he risked a quick glance at Brian, who smiled and nodded at him supportively.

His attention was drawn back to Matthews as he continued, "I see. And that was where?"

"At a restaurant called _Le Masionette."_

"And as I recall, that's a very exclusive restaurant, is it not?"

"Yes, that's my understanding."

Greg continued, "Did you know where you were going that night?"

Justin looked a little sheepish as he explained, "No, I didn't. He had his driver pick me up in a limo and bring me there to meet him."

"So how did you know the arrangements for the limo?" Greg asked him pointedly.

"Well, at the auction, he had someone pass along instructions to me as to when and where to meet his driver."

"So you didn't have any kind of communication with the defendant until you met him for dinner the night after the auction, correct?"

Justin frowned. "Well, no, not exactly."

"What do you mean, Mr. Taylor?"

"Someone I didn't know passed along a note that I later found out was from Lane right after the auction ended," the blond explained.

"What kind of note?"

"Well, it was just a polite kind of note, telling me he was looking forward to our dinner the next night," Justin advised the attorney, somewhat embarrassed. He deliberately didn't look at Brian this time – he knew his partner was still very touchy about Prescott's previous attempts to take him away from him.

"Was the note signed?"

"Well, not really. He just signed it with his first initial – L. At the time, I didn't know anything about the bidder, so I had no idea if it was even a man or a woman," he explained.

"Okay. So you were taken to this restaurant the next night. Were there any other patrons eating there at the time?"

Justin stammered a little and looked somewhat embarrassed as he answered, "Uh, actually, no. He had apparently arranged to buy out the restaurant for the night, because we wound up being the only ones there, except for the wait staff."

There was a slow, murmuring response as the courtroom spectators digested that information. It was a pretty well-known fact that the _Le Masionette_ was an expensive, five-star establishment in the city; to completely buy it out for the night would have taken considerable wealth. Brian's face tightened as he revisited the old, familiar pangs of jealousy he had first experienced that night when he discovered that Justin's benefactor had arranged to have dinner with him alone.

"So you and the defendant met for the first time at the restaurant when you had dinner?"

"That's right," Justin confirmed.

"What was your impression of Mr. Prescott that night, Mr. Taylor?"

For some reason, Justin felt awkward answering this question in front of his partner, but he knew he had to be truthful whether it was painful for the two of them or not. He took a calming breath before replying. "I thought he was charming," he answered truthfully. "Very polished and elegant. Polite and refined," he stated. As he finished, Justin looked once again at his partner, who seemed to stiffen somewhat as he digested what Justin had said about the man that Brian now thoroughly despised.

"I see. And how would you characterize the way he treated you?" Greg urged him.

"He was very kind to me and took an interest in getting to know me better. He went out of his way to make me feel comfortable," he admitted reluctantly, remembering how Lane had initially treated him almost reverently. _How did everything get so fucked up after that? _he wondered. Justin again felt Lane's eyes boring into him, but he refused to turn his head even slightly toward the left to verify that fact; he was tense enough at the moment. Instead, he glanced again over at Brian, who this time seemed to be perturbed at this revelation from his partner. Justin silently pleaded with Brian to understand he was under oath and had to tell the truth, no matter how it might hurt; Justin thought he saw Brian's expression soften somewhat as he continued to stare at him, before Greg drew his attention back with another question.

"Okay. So did you go out with the defendant again after that?" he inquired.

"Yes," Justin said a little haltingly, not sure just why he was hesitant to admit he had agreed to another date with Lane. It's not like he knew the man was a psychopath at the time; in fact, he imagined the whole point Greg was trying to get across is that the man has been completely sane the entire time he knew Justin up to the point where his obsession took an extreme turn.

"And where did you go on your second date?"

Justin inexplicably winced a little at the word "date," even though that was exactly what it was in reality. Somehow it seemed hard to call it that after the man had eventually wound up kidnapping him and drugging him. Out loud, he informed the attorney, "We went back out to dinner and to a museum."

"In Pittsburgh?" Greg prodded, although he already knew the answer. He simply wanted Justin to verbalize it so the jury could comprehend just how cunning and calculating this supposedly temporarily insane man was.

"No," Justin answered softly.

"Then where?" Greg pushed.

Justin looked down, again a little sheepish. "It was in New York City," he finally aanswered, again drawing some curious murmuring from the crowd.

"New York City? That's a pretty far distance from Pittsburgh, Mr. Taylor. How did you and the defendant get there?"

Justin stammered a little, realizing how outlandish his response was going to sound to the average member of the jury; he even found it hard to belief himself. "We flew there in his private jet," he answered briefly.

Again, the crowd responded incredulously as Justin heard the voices becoming louder, earning an admonishment from the Judge this time for order.

"I see," Greg responded calmly, as if this was normal for most second dates. "And did the two of you go out again after that?"

"No," Justin answered firmly, as he thought back upon the conversation he had had with Daphne when he realized he was still in love with Brian, despite their sometimes rocky relationship. _And I almost fucked that up – thank God it wasn't too late._

"So was that the last time you saw or communicated with the defendant until the incident he is accused of today?"

"Actually, no. I spoke to him on the phone a couple of times after we came back from New York City and I saw him just before he went back to his corporate offices there," he advised the attorney.

"And what was your conversation about?" Greg inquired.

"He was getting ready to return to New York, so he asked me to meet him for dinner at the airport before he left."

"And did you agree to meet with him there?" the attorney pressed.

"Yes."

"And what happened when you did?"

Justin was awash with emotion as he recalled his and Lane's conversation inside the jet when the older man had desperately tried to convince Justin to go back to New York with him, despite Justin's vow that he still loved Brian. The man hadn't taken Justin's rejection very well at all.

"He tried to convince me to go with him back to New York."

"And what was your response to that?" Greg asked.

"I told him I couldn't."

"Did you tell him why?"

"Yes."

"And what was the reason?" Greg pushed.

Justin looked directly at Brian as he answered, "I told him I was in love with someone else." He was encouraged to see Brian smile back at him in response to his answer.

"And what was his reaction to that?"

Justin shivered a little as he recalled Lane's response. "He wasn't happy about it."

"How do you know?" the attorney inquired.

"He tried to talk me out of staying in Pittsburgh. He said I was making a mistake and that he could give me the world," he said softly, not able to keep a small, ironic laugh from escaping his lips.

"Did he try to prevent you from leaving?" Greg pressed. He already knew the answer, but he felt it was important Justin verbalize it for the jury.

Justin's heart beat faster as he recalled Lane's actions from that night. He glanced over at Brian again, trying somehow to draw from his strength. He saw the older man nod, encouraging him to answer.

"Yes," he answered softly, as the crowd murmured again.

"What did he do, Mr. Taylor?" Greg pursued.

"He grabbed a hold of my sleeve, and tried to stop me from leaving."

"What happened then?"

"I told him to let me go, that I had nothing else to say to him." Justin closed his eyes briefly as he relived the fear he felt at that moment, before Lane finally gave up – or so he thought. "He finally released my arm, so I could leave."

"And he didn't follow you?"

"No. He let me leave and I saw his jet take off a few minutes later."

"And that was the last time you heard from hin or spoke to him until a few months ago?" Greg asked.

"Yes, that's correct." Justin breathed a small sigh of relief; at least that part was over. But he was afraid the hardest part was now coming up. He was correct when he heard Greg's next question.

"Okay," Greg said, now wanting to move the timeline ahead to the present. "Let's talk about what happened to you approximately six months ago. You started receiving gifts from an unidentified person?"

"Yes."

"And were these gifts and their methods of delivery accurate as Mr. Kinney indicated in his testimony yesterday?"

"Yes, that's correct," Justin verified.

"Okay," Greg acknowledged. "At the time, you had no idea who was sending you these gifts?"

"No," Justin replied.

"There were no hints as to whom they were from?"

"No. They were all delivered by an unknown messenger, and the notes were all typed."

"And how were the notes signed, Mr. Taylor?"

Justin felt his face flush before he replied, "From a secret admirer." He didn't dare glance at either Brian OR Lane, but merely looked down at his hands, for some reason embarrassed.

"And how did these gifts make you feel?" Greg wanted Lane to know in no uncertain terms that the gifts were NOT welcome.

Justin felt his face redden even more as he recalled his reactions to the gifts, especially the VERY personal messages that accompanied them. "Well, when the chocolates were sent, I guess I was a little flattered, I suppose. I thought someone just had a crush on me or something. But the rest of the gifts were pretty personal. I felt embarrassed then," he finally admitted. He hoped Greg would just drop this line of questioning, but the attorney had already warned him a few months ago that he wouldn't be able to do that.

"Why did you feel that way, Mr. Taylor?"

Justin looked over again at Brian for support before formulating an answer; he saw Brian nod his head, as if he were telling him to continue_._ That was enough to help him respond to the question. "Well, I guess it was more the notes that came with the gifts, rather than the gifts themselves," he finally answered.

Thank God Greg wasn't going to apparently have him read the notes aloud, as he had asked Brian to yesterday, because his next question to him was, "And the messages that Mr. Kinney read aloud yesterday to the jury. Were those the exact messages that the secret admirer wrote to you that accompanied each of the gifts?"

Justin signed internally in relief at Greg's decision not to have him repeat the intimate messages to the jury. "Yes," he answered simply, his heart beating rapidly now and his breath quickening. He clenched his fists under the witness stand, fingernails biting into each palm as he tried unsuccessfully to calm his nerves.

"And the gifts themselves. What did you do with them, as well as the notes, Mr. Taylor?"

"Well I threw out the gifts, but I kept the notes in case they could somehow lead us to the identity of the sender." Justin thought he heard a small huff come from Lane's direction, as if he were upset by the revelation that the recipient of his obsession had discarded the gifts he had so meticulously chosen and prepared for him.

Greg overlooked the reaction as he continued, "You had already indicated the notes and gifts had embarrassed you. Why would you want to know who sent them, then?"

Justin hesitated a little before admitting, "Well, I was starting to get a little afraid of who was behind them."

"And why was that, if you thought they were just from someone with a crush?" Greg pressed, hoping Justin would answer the way he expected. He wasn't disappointed.

"Well, when I got the CD, especially, I realized we might be dealing with more than just someone who had a crush on me."

"And what was it about the CD that made you think that?"

"It had a photo of me on the cover that I knew had to be taken at an art show I had attended a week before. You could tell by the background and what I was wearing," he elaborated.

"And how did that make you feel, Mr. Taylor?"

Justin confessed, "It made me scared. Like someone was stalking me or something."

"And why was that?"

"Because I knew then that this person, or at least someone who was working with this person, had gone to the trouble to find out where I was and take my picture, unbeknownst to me. That made me think maybe it was more than just a casual admirer. And also the cost of the items made me concerned."

"The cost?" Greg asked.

"Yes. A friend of mine recognized the brand of chocolates and how expensive they were. And the bracelet was made out of platinum and came from Tiffany's, so I knew it had to cost a lot."

"Okay. So by the time you received these gifts, were you and your partner, Brian Kinney, in a committed relationship?"

At that moment, Justin looked over at Brian as their eyes met, both men reflecting the same emotion. "Yes," Justin said firmly, now smiling affectionately as his smile was returned by the other man.

"And did you tell Mr. Kinney about these gifts you were receiving?"

"Yes, I did."

"And what was his reaction?" Greg inquired.

"He wasn't happy about it."

"Can you be more specific with your answer, Mr. Taylor?"

"Well, he was upset. Upset by the personal messages and just by the fact that some other man was sending me expensive and personal gifts."

"And did he do anything to try and discover the identity of this person as a result?"

"Yes."

Greg advised his client, "Mr. Kinney has already explained he hired a security detail to watch over you. Did he do anything else?"

"He tried to get the local police involved."

"And was he successful?"

"No," Justin admitted. "Brian told me they couldn't get involved unless there were specific conditions, such as my being under _severe emotional distress_, I think is the way he put it. The police didn't think that applied in this situation."

"I see. So was that when your partner decided to hire the security detail for you?"

"Yes, although I wasn't aware of that until later."

"Why do you suppose he didn't tell you about it at the time?"

Justin smiled a little before answering truthfully, "Because he knew I would be mad."

"Why?"

"Because at the time I mistakenly thought he was overreacting," he explained. "He knew I didn't want him hovering over me, but he didn't want me to go out of the loft we shared unprotected."

"Because he was concerned about your safety when you weren't worried about it?" he asked pointedly.

A little stubbornly, Justin defended himself. "I guess maybe you could say that; I was still nervous, but I wasn't going to stay cooped up inside my loft permanently as a prisoner."

"Okay. So you had been the recipient of several gifts from an unknown party, and your partner had hired a security detail as a result, unbeknownst to you," Greg reviewed. "Did you receive any other gifts after that?"

"No."

"Did you think that was strange, that they just stopped like that?"

"Yes, I suppose. But mainly I was just relieved that they had stopped."

"Okay. So did something occur shortly thereafter that resulted in your partner having to leave town?"

"Yes."

"And was this when Mr. Kinney was offered a chance to meet with Jack Belden of Belden Industries in Chicago, as he had attested to yesterday?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Okay. So your partner was out of town. Did something else happen around that same time that also took you out of town while your partner was gone?"

"Yes."

"And what was that, Mr. Taylor?"

"I received a commission from Vince Comisar to paint several landscapes for him, and the first one I was assigned to do was finished. He called and asked me to accompany him to his restaurant in Lancaster to help him decide where to place the painting," Justin explained.

"And at the time, had you met Mr. Comisar before?"

"No."

"Did he reveal to you how he happened to pick you for this project?"

Justin thought for a moment; that was a good question, actually. He had never really tried to determine just HOW he had gotten chosen for this project; he was just thrilled at the time for the opportunity. "No, he didn't."

"Didn't you think it was strange that he seemingly just picked your name out of the blue?" Greg inquired.

"Well, to be honest, at the time I was so happy to get such a large project, I didn't give it much thought. It just slipped my mind, I guess," he admitted truthfully.

"Okay. So after you completed your painting, you left with Mr. Comisar for Lancaster on his private jet?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Okay. We have already established that your partner was out of town at the same time. Did you speak with him while he was gone?"

"Yes, we talked on the phone a couple of times while he was there," Justin confirmed. "Before I left for Lancaster," he clarified.

"And when you received this request to accompany Mr. Comisar to Lancaster to hang your painting – did you inform your partner about it?"

Justin averted his eyes from Brian; he still deeply regretted not telling Brian where he was going; his misguided actions had almost resulted in him perhaps not coming back at ALL. He finally simply answered, "No."

"Why?" Greg pressed.

He took a breath before answering. "Because I still thought he was blowing things out of proportion, and this was a tremendous opportunity for me. Besides, Mr. Comisar had assured me we would be back within 24 hours, which was supposed to be well before Brian was due to return. I didn't want to unduly concern him when he was trying to obtain an important client," he explained in his own defense, although in light of everything that had happened, his rationale sounded even a little weak to his own ears as he said it out loud.

"I see. But you had the ability to communicate through your cell phones once you left with Mr. Comisar, correct?"

Embarrassed, Justin admitted, "No. I inadvertently forgot it when I left the loft in a hurry to get to the airport."

"Okay. So unknown to your partner at the time, you arrived at the restaurant in Lancaster with Mr. Comisar, correct?"

"That's correct."

"And were there other people at this restaurant? What was the name?" Greg asked.

"The _Chez Laurent," _Justin supplied. And, yes, there were other people there when we arrived."

"Patrons?" Greg inquired, seeking clarification.

"No," Justin explained. "They were workers. Vince told me the restaurant was due to open in a day or two, but they were still putting the finishing touches on it."

"Okay. So did you do as Mr. Comisar asked, and suggest the best placement for your painting?"

"Yes."

"And then what happened, Mr. Taylor?"

"He asked me if I could stay for lunch before we returned to Pittsburgh."

"And did you agree?"

"Yes," Justin responded, but qualified it with an explanation. "I wanted to return to Pittsburgh right away, but he told me it wouldn't take long and I would be doing him a favor."

"How was that?" Greg asked.

Justin replied, "He said he needed the new chef to try out some of his dishes before the restaurant opened to the public."

Brian listened intently to this part of his partner's testimony; they had talked at length about Justin's ordeal, but the older man had been so emotionally caught up in the man he loved almost dying at the hands of that fucking stalker, he hadn't really stopped to listen carefully to the whole story. Now, he wasn't quite sure he WANTED to hear what was about to be discussed next, but he knew he had to. Not just for himself, but for Justin.

"Okay. So what happened then? Did you eat in the main dining room with him?"

Justin's heart began to beat rapidly again, because he knew where this part of the questioning was headed, and he was dreading it.

"No. He said he couldn't join me for lunch, because he needed to talk to some of the workers to handle some issues that had come up related to his remodeling. And I couldn't eat in the main dining room, because he said that area wasn't finished yet."

"So WHERE did you wind up eating?"

Justin bit his lip as he nervously fiddled with his hands under the witness stand. "He had the concierge escort me to a private dining room in the back of the restaurant."

Brian thought to himself, _VERY convenient, you asshole. Temporarily insane, my ass._

"And when you arrived at this dining room, was it open? Could you see inside?"

"No, I couldn't. The doors were closed and there were shades over them."

Brian couldn't take his eyes away from his partner as he noticed his breathing becoming rapid. _Breathe, Justin, breathe,_ he silently pleaded.

"Okay. So when the doors to the private dining room were opened, what did you see, Mr. Taylor?"

Justin closed his eyes, awash in emotion, as he thought about that day months ago when he first saw Lane again at that restaurant. The fear and shock he felt then were just as raw now.

"Mr. Taylor? Do you need the question repeated?" Greg asked. He knew this was definitely going to be the most difficult part of his client's testimony, but also the most critical part. He silently encouraged Justin to keep going.

Justin opened his eyes abruptly as the attorney spoke, looking desperately at Brian for support. Brian nodded and tried to smile encouragingly at his partner, although the smile died somewhat on his lips as he looked at how extremely uncomfortable Justin was.

Justin took a deep breath before he began. "No," he answered the attorney. "I heard the question." He took another deep breath and let it out noticeably. "When the concierge opened the door, I saw Lane sitting at a table for two in the room." Justin bit his lip again, trying to keep it from quivering. His stomach was churning once again as he felt his pulse racing. He couldn't look anywhere in Lane's direction for fear he would lose his composure completely.

"And were there any other people in this room with him?"

"No. He was alone," Justin verified.

"What about the concierge? Did he stay?" Greg asked.

"No. He left as soon as he opened the doors for me." Justin curiously hadn't really given that much thought until now. Lane must have arranged even that little detail, because the employee certainly didn't stick around after he opened the doors.

"So you were left alone with the defendant?"

Justin's eyes again honed in on his partner for support before he answered simply, "Yes."

"What did you do then, Mr. Taylor?"

"I just stood there for several seconds – in shock, I guess."

"Okay. What happened next?"

"He said hello to me." The exact words were _Hello, Angel,_ but Justin was going to divulge that little endearment in front of Brian, if he didn't have to. This was going to be difficult enough for them as it was.

"And then what happened? Did you say anything to him?"

"Yes. The pieces came together somehow for me then. I asked him if he was behind all the gifts I had been receiving."

"And what was his reply to that? Did he admit he was the sender?"

"Yes, he did," Justin verified softly.

"Okay. So did you turn around and leave after you found that out?"

Justin hesitated briefly before answering. "No."

"Why? You had mentioned before you were fearful of this secret admirer who had been bestowing gifts on you. Why didn't you leave once you found out it was the defendant?"

_Good question_, Justin thought. That question had played itself over and over again in his mind more times than he could remember now. _Why wasn't I smart enough to just turn around and leave? I could have prevented all this._

He thought for several seconds before admitting truthfully, "I'm not sure. I think I was still in shock over Lane being there and I was a little afraid."

"Afraid, Mr. Taylor? Why?" Greg pressed him.

Justin struggled to explain properly. "He was different somehow. More intense. It's hard to explain. He was looking at me so intently, like he could see through me or something. It made me very uneasy," he finally said, still at a loss for words to fully explain the depth of the feelings that poured through him as he remembered the changes in a man who had previously treated him so kindly and with so much reverence.

"So what did you do then, Mr. Taylor?"

The words tumbled out in a sort of rush. "He asked me to sit down and have lunch with him. He said he just wanted to talk to me. I wasn't sure of what his reaction would be if I refused. And then he took my hand, trying to persuade me into staying." Justin pursed his lips and looked worriedly at Brian then, trying to gauge his partner's reaction. He hadn't told Brian about Lane taking a hold of his wrist, and he noticed Brian's face was clearly contorted in anger. He only hoped the anger was directed at Lane and not at him.

"So you agreed to stay?"

"Yes – for the time being. Until I could figure out what to do," Justin explained.

"Okay, so what did the two of you discuss?"

"He verified for me that he and Vince were childhood friends and that he had set it up with Vince for me to come to Lancaster so he could see me again. He admitted that he had even arranged for me to receive the commission. When he mentioned that he had done all that to see me again, I repeated to him what I had told him the last time I saw him – that I was in love with Brian and that nothing had changed. Although that's not really accurate," he quickly added, "I actually told him my love for Brian was stronger than ever," he clarified firmly, as he turned to smile softly at Brian to verify he meant it. He noticed to his relief that Brian's anger had quickly dissipated at that statement and his face had softened. "And I asked him if he didn't think he deserved to find someone who loved him the way that I loved Brian," he concluded.

"And what was the defendant's reaction to that statement?"

"He told me he understood." Justin laughed at himself softly. "And I actually believed him." _What a naïve fool I was, Brian._

"So what happened then? Did you get up and leave?" Greg asked. It was so quiet by now in the courtroom you could have heard the proverbial pin drop as the spectators and jury hung on every word the blond said, riveted.

"No. He asked me to stay for a toast before I left." Justin snorted softly as he continued. "He said he wanted to make a toast to my happiness. That my being happy was what was most important. And I believed him," he repeated, again not quite able to believe how stupid he had been.

"So what happened after the toast, Mr. Taylor?"

Brian continued to watch his partner closely as he noticed Justin close his eyes, apparently reliving the horror of what came next. _Come on, Sunshine. You can DO this. You HAVE to do this,_ he silently beseeched him.

Justin took another deep breath to calm himself before answering softly, "I took a few sips of the champagne and I got up to leave. I walked a few feet away before I felt dizzy, lightheaded. I felt my legs give out from under me and I tried to walk back to the table to hang on to it before I fell to the floor." His eyes abruptly welled up as he relived that horrible moment. "I didn't make it," he stated flatly.

At that revelation, Justin finally had to risk glancing over at Lane, now openly glaring at the man who had changed from an ardent, but polite and considerate admirer to an obsessive, evil stalker intent at possessing him, willingly or not. He continued to stare at Lane with hate in his eyes until the other man finally looked away, leaving Justin unsure as to the actual reason why.

Greg was impressed with Justin's stamina and strength, but he noticed now how emotionally drained the young man was. He turned to the judge as he asked, "Your Honor, in light of the lateness of the time, I would like to request we dismiss for the day with the understanding I can resume my testimony of Mr. Taylor tomorrow."

"Counselor?" The judge turned toward Sinclair for mutual approval.

"I have no objections, Your Honor," the defense attorney responded. Sinclair had remained quiet during today's testimony, but he knew he would have several questions to ask of this young man tomorrow during the cross examination.

"Very well, then." Slamming down the gavel, the judge announced, "This trial is in recess until tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m."

As the judge rose from his perch on the bench, Justin slumped in exhaustive relief, choosing not to think at the moment about tomorrow. Fortunately, the bailiff allowed him to leave the witness stand before Prescott and Sinclair left their seats; this time, Justin couldn't bear to look at Prescott again.

But as he walked past the man, his whole body stiffened in alarm as he distinctly heard the dark-haired man say, "I'll never stop loving you, Angel," before Sinclair hissed at his client to be quiet. Justin somehow managed to stumble to the swinging doors separating him from the spectators before he pushed them open and was almost violently enveloped in a firm embrace by Brian, who caught him just before he was about to fall.


	23. Chapter 23: A Surprise Encounter

"How could you have been so fucking stupid?!" Sinclair exploded as soon as he and Prescott were alone in his office just down the street from the courthouse.

Prescott appeared unfazed by his attorney's outraged tirade. "It was just one sentence, Sinclair," he countered evenly. "I'm not in prison yet – I'm free to make any comments I like. After all, who's paying your quite generous and overpriced fee?"

"I know damn well who's paying it, you idiot!" he responded, eyes blazing. "Why do you think I'm so upset at you? Are you trying to sabotage everything I've done? Did I not warn you against speaking to him?"

"Calm down, Sinclair. All I did was make one little comment as he passed by. I couldn't help myself," Prescott admitted. "He's just so fucking incredible. Just because I'm not around him doesn't mean my opinion has changed of him."

"Listen, Lane, you're paying me a lot of YOUR money to handle this case and get you out of this damn predicament. If you won't follow my advice, then I'm just wasting my time here. What's it going to be?" he said pointedly, pacing back and forth in front of his client.

Lane stared scathingly at his attorney for several seconds before he sighed in disgust. "All right – I'll abide by your stupid rules. I won't speak to him. But I won't promise not to look at him," he warned the other man. "While he's on the witness stand, that's my only chance to see him." Prescott just couldn't help it – Justin continued to absolutely fascinate him. He was all he dreamed about at night; he still somehow had to have this man.

"You're taking a big risk here, Lane," Sinclair admonished him, stopping now to turn and stand next to the other man's chair; his client's obsession with the young artist could very well prove to be his undoing. "You better hope I can somehow knock him down a peg or two on the witness stand. So far he's been pretty infallible up there. He's not making your case look good at all," he cautioned him strongly. Biting in lip in thought, he continued, "I have to figure out his weak areas and exploit them."

"I don't want him hurt," Lane emphasized. "I still care about him."

"Look – right now we're fighting for your very survival here. You need to play this game the way I decide to handle it, or you're going to fucking blow it and wind up with your ass in jail for the rest of your life. Do you understand?" he asked the other man roughly, hands on hips.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Lane acknowledged. "Just go easy on him," he repeated.

"No can do, Lane," Sinclair argued. "Either we play this my way, and you go along with it, or you just tell me right now you can't. Because there is no middle ground here. Like you always say to me, you didn't become successful playing it safe. Well, I didn't, either. So you are either going to have to trust me on this, or we're through. And I'd hate for you to have to get another attorney NOW," he pointed out.

"Okay," Lane grudgingly acquiesed. "We'll have to play it YOUR way. But I don't like being bound by someone else's rules."

"Well, in this case, if you aren't bound by MY rules, you could very well wind up instead being bound over to jail permanently," he said emphatically, as Prescott nodded his head in muted understanding.

The subject apparently resolved, Sinclair moved on to the other pressing issue at hand. "We still need to decide if you will testify in your own behalf or not. I've secured the opinion of an expert witness who, for the right amount of money, of course, will agree to testify that you likely were temporarily insane at the time you drugged Taylor and took him on board your yacht. He will attest to the fact that this condition is possible under instances of extreme duress or stress, which shouldn't be hard to prove for a man in your position of great responsibility. But I think we need to delay making a final determination as to your testifying until after Taylor's is concluded and I have a chance at cross examination."

"I will try and go along with whatever you feel is best," Lane answered, deferring to his attorney's expertise for now. "But I want a say so in it. After all, this is MY life we're talking about."

Sinclair sighed in exasperation. "Very well – but you'd better think long and hard about your answer if it winds up conflicting with mine," he warned, before wrapping up their conversation. "Let's meet again 30 minutes before the trial reconvenes tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. to review everything."

Receiving a text message that his limo driver was waiting outside, Prescott concluded their meeting as he walked out the attorney's 2nd floor office. "Okay – I'll see you tomorrow, then."

* * *

Justin had been uncommonly quiet on the drive home; Brian knew he had to be mentally exhausted after spending several hours on the witness stand. He knew how he himself had felt yesterday during his own testimony. However, he also feared that the most difficult part of Justin's testimony may be yet to come, for tomorrow, he would not only be asked to recall his battle to recover in the hospital from his drugging, he would also be subject to Sinclair's cross-examination of him. He knew this man could be brutal when he was trying to protect his client, and he didn't trust either of the men to play fair when it came to his partner.

Brian glanced over at the blond, whose head was turned toward him while he slept in the passenger seat, his hand tucked underneath. In his sleep, Justin looked peaceful and worry free. But Brian knew that was just a temporary illusion. Several times, especially over the last month or so as the trial neared, he found himself awakened by Justin's nightmares at the hands of his ordeal with Prescott. Only after holding him for several minutes and reassuring him with words and caresses would Justin finally slip off into a fitful sleep for the rest of the night. Brian knew he would do anything to help keep the bad dreams at bay, if only he knew how to do that. He sighed, as his right hand reached out to gently tousle the soft, blond hair, receiving a satisfying sigh and a slight smile in return from the man he loved. _You don't deserve this, Sunshine,_ he thought. He resolved to do whatever it took to keep his partner safe.

* * *

"This session is now in order. The courtroom recalls Justin Taylor to the stand," the bailiff announced to the crowd at precisely 9:02 a.m., as the judge, jury, and attorneys took their customary places in the room.

Justin looked over at Brian, again seeking the support and reassurance only this man could give him. Brian squeezed his hand gently, whispering to him, "You can do this, Justin. I'll be right here," he added, smiling softly. "I'm not going anywhere." Justin nodded before he rose slowly, again noticing everyone's eyes on him. He took a deep breath before proceeding to walk once more toward the witness stand. As he passed Lane, he couldn't bear to spare so much as a glance his way; after the man's comment to him yesterday, he held his breath, silently begging him NOT to say anything else; his nerves were totally frazzled. Fortunately, no words were forthcoming from the defendant this time as Justin sighed silently in relief.

"The witness will be reminded that he is still under oath," the bailiff reminded him, as Justin nodded in acknowledgment and sat back down in the witness chair.

Greg resumed his questioning. "Now, Mr. Taylor, it was established yesterday that you had lunch with the defendant on the day in question, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you stated that immediately after drinking a toast with the defendant, you felt dizzy and lightheaded before you passed out?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Okay. After you lost consciousness, what was the next memory you recall from that day?"

Justin's eyes misted over as he remembered his hospitalization in Lancaster. "I was told I was taken to the hospital by the local police and treated in the emergency room. To be honest, I don't remember any of it at all for the first several hours. I was so tired and groggy until the effects of the medicine started to wear off. I don't remember any of it until I finally came to after I was moved to a regular room. It's all pretty much a big blur until then."

"I see," Greg responded, pointedly turning to stare at the defendant. _Let the jury be aware of what you did, Prescott,_ he thought. Taking a slightly different direction, he asked his client, "I understand, also, that you have had numerous allergic reactions to medicines in the past?"

"Yes, I have," Justin verified.

"Can you describe some of these reactions to the jury?"

"Well, before I found out which medications I was allergic to, I would break out into a severe rash, my throat would close up, and I would have a lot of difficulty breathing."

"And your doctor at the hospital, Dr. Morrissey, did he indicate there were problems with the GHB you ingested?" Greg inquired.

"Yes, I had to be placed on oxygen and given several medications to prevent nausea and muscle spasms, and my vision was blurry for several hours." He looked over at Brian to gauge his reaction; understandably, his partner's face had taken on a look of hatred – hatred at the man who had done this to him, undoubtedly.

"And when you were discharged from the hospital, Mr. Taylor?"

"It was late the next day," he advised him.

"And did you experience any after effects from the drug you were given?" he pressed him.

"Yes."

"Can you describe these symptoms?"

"Well, I had muscle weakness for a couple of weeks, as well as some memory loss for a while. I also had bouts of nausea, especially early in the morning, for a week or so afterward." Looking a little embarrassed, he added, "I've also had frequent nightmares."

"What types of nightmares?" Greg asked.

Justin looked down, away from everyone's prying eyes, especially Lane's; the tension in the room was palpable as everyone hung on his testimony. "Mainly ones where I'm reliving the drugging and I'm on board his yacht, unable to escape or move." He closed his eyes now, trying to will himself not to think about what happened, or worse, what MIGHT have happened had Brian and Carl not found him in time. Thoughts of terror at the hands of his captor, however, still invaded his mind now despite his desperate hope not to think about it yet again.

"And did you require counseling for these nightmares you were experiencing?"

"Well, I probably should have," Justin admitted. "But I really didn't want to go that route. Besides, Brian helps me when I get them. He's better than any counselor could be," Justin advised, flashing a look of gratitude at his partner, receiving a return look of affection from him in return.

Greg felt satisfied that Justin had sufficiently described in detail what he had endured at the hands of Prescott . "Your Honor, I have no further questions for the witness at this time; however, I would like to reserve the right to redirect."

"Understood, Mr. Matthews," the judge acknowledged. As Matthew nodded briefly at Justin to indicate he thought the young man had done a good job of answering his questions, he returned to his seat as the judge turned to the defense attorney. "Mr. Sinclair, you may cross examine the witness."

Justin fidgeted a little in his seat; this foreboding, formidable man was quite intimidating to him. He took a calming breath while he awaited the other man's probing questions and sought out Brian's comforting support.

"Mr. Taylor, you indicated in your prior testimony that you met the defendant approximately 18 months ago, correct?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"All right. When you met the defendant, Mr. Taylor, you indicated he was, in your own words, charming, polished, elegant, polite and refined. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Justin verified, somewhat haltingly. _Why do I feel like the shoe's about to drop here?_

"How would you categorize the defendant's intelligence? His business acumen?"

"I'm not sure what you mean exactly," Justin answered hesitantly.

"Well, I'm sure during the course of your interaction with Mr. Prescott, the two of you conversed at length. After all, you spent two evenings alone with the man. What was your impression of his intelligence? What did the two of you discuss, for instance?"

"Well, we discussed current events, life in Pittsburgh and New York City, and art."

"I see. So did the defendant seem out of touch with reality during those discussions?"

"Well, no," Justin admitted. "He seemed very intelligent to me," he replied honestly.

"And did you enjoy his company during that time, right after you first met?" the attorney clarified.

The blond was silent for a few seconds. He HAD enjoyed the other man's company during that time, even relishing in the special attention the other man had given him. Looking over at Brian, however, he was dreading having to relive that period while he and Brian were separated. It was a painful period for both of them, a time in which they had finally learned from their experience and used it to draw them closer together.

"Mr. Taylor. Did you hear the question?" Sinclair queried.

Looking somewhat uncomfortable, Justin finally replied simply, "Yes."

"And during the time you had dinner with him initially, and then flew with him to New York City for your second encounter, were you in fear of the defendant?" Sinclair continued to probe.

"Well, no," Justin began. "But the last time we met, I was in…."

"Just answer the question yes or no, Mr. Taylor. After all, you went out twice with this man in the same week, and were alone with him both times. That doesn't sound like someone who's afraid of their companion, does it? Yes or no, Mr. Taylor," he reminded him. He stared with steely eyes at the younger man, daring him to challenge his rationale.

Justin sighed a little, frustrated that he couldn't elaborate further on his answer. While he didn't fear being in Lane's company initially, he WAS a little afraid of the man when he had to admit to him that he loved Brian and did NOT want to leave with him. He recalled being VERY angry and maybe a little frightened at the same time, before Lane finally released his hold on his sleeve and agreed to let him leave the man's jet. Justin finally answered softly, "No."

"Now, Mr. Taylor, let's move forward to more recent events. You testified that you did not realize the defendant was responsible for the anonymous gifts you received until you were reunited with him at the _Chez Laurent _that day in Lancaster. Correct?"

"Yes. That was the first moment I realized it was him, when he ADMITTED it was him."

"And you also just now attested to your impression of the defendant when you first met him as someone intelligent and with a firm grasp on reality. Is that your testimony?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Please, Mr. Taylor, stick to a yes or no response," Sinclair cautioned him, not wanting to give Justin any extra wiggle room in his answer.

"Yes," Justin answered, somewhat angrily. This pompous man wasn't allowing him to elaborate at all in his responses.

"So, I ask you, Mr. Taylor, don't you think it odd that a man of Mr. Prescott's stature – someone so powerful, influential, and capable of getting anything or anyone he wants – would go to such great lengths just to obtain your affection? Doesn't that seem out of character to you?" Sinclair then softly chuckled, as if he found it outlandish to think that a normal, sensible person such as Prescott would behave in this way – unless he had temporarily lost his touch with reality, of course. "What is your response, Mr. Taylor? From everything you observed and heard about the defendant, did the actions he took that night seem like normal behavior for him?"

"Well, no," Justin stammered.

Not allowing Justin any possible chance to elaborate on his response, Sinclair hurriedly continued. "Did this man ever offer you any type of drugs before, Mr. Taylor?"

"No," Justin admitted.

"So does it not seem very out of character for the defendant to be using a drug on you?"

"Well, I suppose, but…"

"But you yourself have used recreational drugs before, haven't you, Mr. Taylor?" Sinclair suddenly asked accusingly.

"Objection, Your Honor!" Matthews quickly rose from his seat. "That question has no bearing on the issue at hand. It is TOTALLY irrelevant," he insisted.

"Objection sustained," the judge decided. "Please keep your questions to the issue at hand, Counselor," he warned Sinclair, who raised his hands midway in an apparently apologetic gesture. "Yes, Your Honor," he acknowledged politely.

Deterred in his quest to undermine Justin's lifestyle, the attorney felt he had proven how out of character it would be for his client to perform the actions he did in Lancaster; turning to the judge now, he advised, "I have no further questions of this witness, Your Honor."

Judge Mason turned to the prosecutor. "Mr. Matthews, redirect?" he asked the other man.

"Yes, Your Honor," the prosecutor affirmed. Rising from his seat, he smiled slightly at Justin to try and reassure the younger man. "Mr. Taylor, you were trying to testify earlier to your experience with the defendant during the last time you saw him prior to receiving your anonymous gifts a few months ago. Was this at the airport just before you said your final goodbye?"

"Yes, sir," Justin verified.

"And what was your impression of the defendant during that time? Were you indeed afraid of him?" he asked him pointedly.

Justin sighed softly. "Yes, I was – a little. He didn't want me to leave him and did not take the rejection well. He kept trying to get me to change my mind, and wasn't happy that I wouldn't."

"Did he try to prevent you, then, from leaving?"

"Yes, for a short time," Justin responded, reliving some of the sudden apprehension that night, when he became afraid that Lane might not let him leave.

"And just to clarify the time you spent with Mr. Prescott. From the time you first met him until the time you said goodbye to him at the airport in Pittsburgh, less than a week transpired – correct?"

"That's correct."

"And you had never heard of this man until you met him for the first time the day after the benefit?" Greg asked his client. He felt it important to stress that no one could possibly become intimately familiar with a relative stranger in less than week's time, let alone know how sane a person was.

"That's correct," Justin confirmed for him.

Greg smiled, satisfied he had gotten his point across. "Your Honor, I have no further questions of Mr. Taylor," he verified, turning to the judge.

"Very well, Counselor. Mr. Taylor, you may step down," he instructed Justin.

Justin couldn't help sighing in relief as he once again stepped from the witness stand and turned toward the swinging doors separating the trial area from the spectators in the audience; he deliberately did not glance toward Lane as he passed him; he only had eyes at that moment for his partner, who was watching him intently.

As Justin walked toward Brian's seat, he heard the Judge advise, "We will dismiss for the day due to the hour. Trial will resume tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. This session is now adjourned," he stated, as he rapped his gavel on the podium.

Brian stood to greet his partner, who once again looked mentally exhausted. As the rest of the courtroom poured out of the back of the room, he reached to wrap the younger man tightly in his arms, trying to somehow transfer some of Justin's burden onto himself. The blond's slender arms reached around Brian's waist as he placed his head on the man's chest. "I am so relieved that's over," he murmured softly, as the two men now stood alone, continuing to hold each other.

"I know you are," Brian whispered in his ear. "And I'm glad that part's over with, too. But nothing's going to be completely over until that fucker is where he belongs – in jail." He tightly squeezed Justin's shoulders briefly before finally releasing his hold on him. "Let's go home, Sunshine, and try to find a way to release some of your tension," he said smirking, eyebrows rising. "I'm sure we can think of something to take care of it."

"Brian," Justin gently teased his partner. "I'm not in the mood for yoga tonight."

"Don't worry, Sunshine," he said. "I've got some OTHER kind of contortion in mind." Taking Justin's hand, he pulled him gently toward the side entrance, planning to avoid the ever-increasing media circus right outside the front entrance. Thankfully, they had been able to continue avoiding the massive, noisy group dying for a juicy, salacious piece of gossip about that day's trial events; Brian assumed there would be plenty of publicity-hungry "anonymous" sources that would just love to spread the latest tidbit of news regarding today's proceedings.

As they exited the side door, Justin turned to Brian. "Brian, I need to use the bathroom for a minute. Will you wait for me here?"

"Sure, Sunshine," Brian replied, taking up a stance on the opposite side of the bathroom as Justin entered the men's room. He casually noticed a sheriff's deputy standing about 10 feet away from him, speaking with Sinclair, who inexplicably appeared to be loitering there for some undetermined reason. _Arrogant, pompous asshole_, Brian couldn't help thinking. _You and Prescott sure fucking deserve each other._

Justin walked into the large, two-sided men's room, turning toward the right set of urinals against the wall. He, therefore, did not notice another man presently using a urinal on the left side of the facility; that is, not until he walked back toward the center of the room to wash his hands and came face to face with the other lone occupant – Lane Prescott.


	24. Chapter 24: An Unexpected Showdown

Lane stared, entranced, at the object of all his fantasies from the past year; he had thought and dreamed of nothing else but holding the man who was standing, apparently stunned, in front of him. He slowly moved closer to Justin as he spoke soothingly to him, afraid to speak any louder for fear of spooking him. "Justin…..Angel," he began, smiling in captivation. "I can't believe you're here," he said, softly, totally mesmerized by the vision in front of him. "I've waited so long for this," he said breathlessly, as he reached out both arms toward the other man; he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the slender body and never let him go again.

To his astonishment, Justin suddenly shrunk back from him, actually cowering as he shouted, "Don't call me that! Stay AWAY from me! Don't you fucking come near me, Lane!"

"Angel…." As the other man glowered at him, he continued, "Justin, please, I just want to talk to you. It's been so long. Please," Lane implored, practically begging now as he continued to walk closer to Justin, the blond still moving backward to get as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, Justin did not realize that instead of moving toward the exit, he was instead slowly being cornered up against the back wall. As his back hit the wall abruptly, he realized his mistake. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. "Lane," he began, his voice now shouting in a mixture of fear and hatred, "I'm warning you. STAY AWAY FROM ME! I HATE you! What is WRONG with you?! I don't want anything to DO with you! Leave me alone!"

"Justin, please," Lane continued to beseech the other man as he continued his slow march toward him. Somehow he had to make Justin understand that everything he had done was simply to be closer to him, to get to know him, to love him. Why couldn't he understand that?

Justin realized the other man was NOT going to be deterred; he looked around desperately for something, anything, to help defend himself with. Realizing there WAS nothing, he covered his eyes in fear, slowing sliding to the floor on his knees as he waited for the other man to do whatever he intended to do. All the previous nightmares he had had at this other man's expense after the kidnapping and drugging was nothing compared to the panic and terror he was experiencing at this moment.

_Oh, God! _He shuddered and trembled as the other man's hands started to grasp his shoulders, just before he heard a voice of wrath that must have been sent from heaven: "What the HELL do you think you're doing? You're a DEAD man!" As Justin uncovered his eyes and opened them, he saw his partner violently grab the other man and spin him around, just long enough to let fly a punch square to Prescott's jaw, sending the man sprawling to the hard, tiled floor. "I'm going to fucking KILL you, do you hear me?" The brunet shouted at the top of his lungs. "I should have done this a LONG time ago!" he screamed in rage, reaching down to yank the other man up by his collar, preparing to strangle the living daylights out of him with his bare hands.

"Brian, NO!" Justin shouted at him, now scared out of his mind, not because of Prescott, but out of concern for his partner. "Brian!" he repeated, trying desperately to get his attention, "No! Don't!" he screamed, attempting to pull his partner away from Prescott. Brian, however, roughly shrugged Justin off him. "Leave me ALONE!" he growled at Justin. "I should have taken care of this fucker a LONG time ago!" he repeated, as he tightly placed both of his long hands around the incapacitated man's neck, squeezing violently to try and crush Prescott's windpipe. He had decided long ago that no amount of possible punishment was going to prevent him from taking care of this man if he came anywhere near Justin again.

As much as in that moment Justin would have preferred Prescott dead as well, he was more worried about what would happen to his partner; somehow, he had to convince Brian to stop. He knew Brian wouldn't stop until the other man was dead, no matter the consequences. But he wasn't going to let Prescott take the man he loved more than life itself away from him. "HELP ME!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, begging someone, ANYONE, to come to his aid.

As he hurried toward the entrance to the men's room, he was relieved but also a little scared to see the sheriff's deputy who had been out in the hall rush in, gun drawn. "That's enough!" the man sternly warned at Brian, "Back away from him," he instructed the brunet. "NOW!" he commanded, his gun now pointed directly at Brian, who continued to hold the other man's neck in a death grip.

"Brian, PLEASE!" Justin was now begging him, pleading with him to stop. "Brian," he repeated. "He's not worth it. He's not worth destroying everything we have. Please – don't let him do this to us. I love you. PLEASE, Brian," he implored tearfully, his voice shaking and choked with emotion. "Please," he repeated, eyes now spilling tears of fear – fear that this man who had haunted his dreams would now take Brian away from him. _Was there no end to this torment?_ Justin held out his hands toward Brian, silently imploring him to listen to him, to not destroy everything they had built over the past year. They had been so happy, so in love. _Brian, please don't let this man destroy that._

The tension was palpable as the sheriff's deputy continued to aim his gun directly at Brian, ready at a moment's notice to take drastic action if the brunet did not follow his demands. Justin continued to hold out his hands in a desperate invitation for his partner to make the right decision and let Prescott go.

As Prescott hung limply in the other man's hands, Brian tried to control his rapid, heavy breathing and calm his rage somehow at the man who had once again threatened the man he loved. He stood there, hands still wrapped tightly on the other man's neck, torn between finishing him off or giving into Justin's plea to stop. He looked at the pain clearly written on his partner's face, as well as the obvious love shining from him, before he finally, reluctantly, released his hold on Prescott's neck and let him slump to the ground. As the deputy thankfully lowered his gun and holstered it, Justin rushed to his partner, grabbing him in a tight embrace and wrapping his arms around Brian's back.

"Brian," he whispered, his voice still shaky and full of emotion. "Oh, Brian…." The tears continued to flow, but this time they were now from relief, not fear. He rubbed his hands all over the other man's back soothingly.

"Justin," the brunet answered, his voice quivering as he placed both hands on Justin's face and turned the blond's upward to look at him. "Are you all right?" he asked urgently, reaching with his thumbs to gently brush the tears away from the pale face. "He was going to hurt you," he explained, voice choked with emotion. "I couldn't let him do that," he added, his voice shaking with intensity.

"I'm okay, Brian," Justin assured him, trying to smile but not quite being successful; he hiccupped a little, a result of his emotional outburst. He wanted to reassure Brian, but his emotions were so much in turmoil over what had just happened he couldn't quite bring himself to succeed. He trembled as Brian wrapped his long arms around him, holding the blond tightly against him. "I'm okay," he repeated softly, sniffling. _That was too close. If I had lost you, I would have been lost, too._

The sheriff's deputy crouched down near the two men to examine Prescott. Feeling a fairly strong pulse, he radioed for medical help, as well as police backup. "You two stay here," he warned them. "You will have to come down to the police station for questioning," he advised.

All three heads turned just then as they heard a new voice asking, "What the HELL happened here?" Matthews asked, as he and Sinclair rushed into the restroom.

Glaring at Sinclair, Brian kept his arm possessively around Justin's waist as he snarled, "Your CLIENT tried to attack Justin – AGAIN! How the FUCK was he allowed in here unattended?" he demanded, as he noticed two paramedics placing a stretcher besides the injured man.

Sinclair refused to supply an answer as he glared at Brian and said, "I want to know how my client wound up unconscious on the floor. What the hell did you DO to him?!"

"I tried to KILL him, that's what the hell I did to him!" he replied. "And if Justin hadn't stopped me, that's exactly what I WOULD have done! That's what the fucker deserved!" he said adamantly as he stared daggers at the defense attorney.

The sheriff's deputy turned toward the two attorneys, advising them, "These two need to come down to the police station with me for questioning. I need to get the full story of what happened here."

Matthews advised both men, "Don't say anything until I get down there. I'm coming with you," he assured them. Turning toward Sinclair, he said, "I don't know exactly what happened here, but I'm sure YOUR client is NOT the innocent party you're making him out to be, Sinclair."

"Well, we'll see about that. It certainly seems like he got the short end of the stick, though, doesn't it?" he stated, glaring at the three men standing together. "Don't worry – I'll be down there, too. I have my client to protect," he explained, as he walked out of the restroom, just behind the two paramedics now carrying Prescott out on a stretcher.

Turning toward the deputy, who was well-known to him, Matthews asked, "If you're not formally charging either of these two men with a crime, I assume it would be all right for me to drive them down to the station to make their statements regarding this incident?"

The deputy thought for a few seconds before nodding. "I'll expect them down there shortly," he warned the attorney, as he exited the restroom.

"I'll meet you two out by the side entrance," Matthews advised Brian and Justin. Brian nodded his head slightly in agreement, continuing to hold onto Justin's waist firmly as they were finally left alone. It seemed like it had been forever since they had come out of the courtroom after Justin's testimony today, instead of less than an hour. As he felt Justin continuing to breathe erratically and tremble at his side, he gave the slender blond a squeeze, causing his partner's teary blue eyes to look up at him through damp eyelashes. "Are you all right, Sunshine?" Brian asked him tenderly, the concern clearly written on his own line-etched face. Justin's only response was to turn to face the other man and again wrap both of his arms around the other man's in a tight embrace as if he never wanted to ever let him go.

Finally, as Justin pressed the side of his face against his chest, Brian heard him admit softly, "I was so frightened, Brian. Frightened by Lane, and then frightened that you wouldn't let him go."

Brian held the other man firmly as he murmured, "I know you were." Caressing the other's man back, he admitted, "I would have, you know. I would have fucking killed him if you hadn't stopped me. I would have done whatever it took to keep you safe," he vowed, his voice again choking up with emotion. Emotion over how close the man he loved had come to being harmed once again by this asshole that didn't deserve to live. And emotion over how Justin had acted to prevent the two of them from being torn apart because of this, this MONSTER.

"I know," Justin whispered softly. "But we can't let him win. He's NOT going to win, Brian," he vowed, his voice now becoming stronger with conviction as he slightly loosened his hold on the older man and looked up intently at him.

Brian gently smiled down at him, arms now grasping the slender, pale shoulders. "No, he's not," he agreed, shaking his head slightly. Taking a deep breath before letting it out, he asked, "Are you ready to go with Matthews now?"

Justin sniffled a little before releasing a soft breath escape his lips. "As ready as I'll ever be," he verified.

Brian reached down to kiss his partner's lips gently before whispering, "Let's go and get this over with, then." As Justin nodded, the two walked hand in hand out of the restroom and headed toward the courthouse exit.

* * *

Justin and Brian looked up from their chairs at the police interrogation room as Matthews walked in. "Well, I just got off the phone with Allegheny General, where they took Prescott. I spoke to one of the sheriff's deputies there, and he informed me he has several bruises and contusions, but overall he's only got minor injuries. He's going to be fine," he assured both men, as he took a seat at their table.

Justin let out a soft sigh of relief; NOT relief, per se, over Prescott's condition but relief that Brian hadn't done any permanent harm. The last thing he wanted to see right now was Brian being jailed or worse for doing severe damage to the other man. He knew they weren't quite out of the woods yet, however, as he asked Matthews, "What's going to happen now? We told them what happened, that Prescott approached me and wouldn't leave. None of this would have happened if he had left me alone when I told him to," he insisted.

"I know, Justin," Matthews assured him. "But unfortunately the fact is, Prescott didn't do any physical harm to you, while Brian DID inflict physical injury on Prescott. Depending upon what the chief prosecutor decides, I'm afraid Brian could be looking at assault charges. I'm sorry," he added, looking at both men. "I know this is the LAST thing you want to hear right now, especially when the end of the trial is so close."

"I don't BELIEVE this!" Justin protested. "Brian was just trying to protect me! If he hadn't come in when he did, there is no telling what Lane would have done to me! They SAW what he did before. I mean, the man DRUGGED me and KIDNAPPED me! What more proof do they want that he meant to HURT me?" he cried.

"Shh," Brian soothed, reaching to grasp Justin's hand as he tried to calm his partner. "It's okay, Justin. I'm sure they're going to reach the same conclusion. What's done is done – I'm NOT sorry for what I did, though, no matter what happens," he told him stubbornly.

But Justin couldn't help being worried about what was going to happen to Brian. He couldn't believe they had come this far only to have their world turned upside down once again. When would all of this end?

The three men looked up as the door opened and Matthews recognized one of his colleagues from the prosecutor's office, Roger Dinsmore, approach. "Greg," he greeted the other man, shaking his hand.

"Roger, this is Justin Taylor and Brian Kinney," he said, nodding to the two men sitting at his side.

"Gentlemen," Roger acknowledged them, before turning to other attorney. "I'll get right to the point, Greg," he advised. "I just spoke to the chief prosecutor, and after weighing all the statements, he has decided that Mr. Kinney was acting in self defense when he assaulted Prescott, so he will not be filing any charges." A loud sigh of relief escaped Justin's lips as he heard the good news, before Dinsmore added, "Of course, Sinclair isn't happy about that turn of events, but he's powerless to do anything about it. It's our call ultimately whether we want to press charges, and the chief prosecutor just doesn't feel that it's warranted in this case. I'd thought you'd want to know the outcome as soon as possible, so I told him I'd drop by to let you know."

"Yeah, thanks, Roger, that's good news. But I expected it after hearing the whole story. Prescott is big trouble. I appreciate you letting me know right away," he told his colleague gratefully. "I assume my client and Mr. Kinney are free to go, then?" he asked the other man.

"Yes," Roger verified. "Nice meeting you both," he said, as he nodded to Brian and Justin. "Oh, and best of luck in your case, Mr. Taylor. I hope you nail the bastard," he advised him, before exiting the room.

As Brian and Justin stood up to go, exhaustion clearing showing on both their faces, Matthews informed them, "By the way, first thing tomorrow I'm going up against Judge Mason and insist he issue a protective order against Prescott to make sure he stays as far away as possible from Justin until the outcome of this trial. Since he's the defendant, I can't force him to stay out of the courtroom," he told them regretfully. "But I sure as hell can make sure he doesn't come anywhere near Justin when the trial is not in session. I wish I could do more, but that's the best I can do, I'm afraid. And he still has the option to testify, that is, if Sinclair thinks that would be a good idea, especially after the stunt he pulled earlier today. If you ask me, that just makes him look all the more calculating. But who knows? Sinclair might feel that he appears even more temporarily insane after what he did. It will be his call – and Prescott's," he advised them gravely.

"I can't believe anyone could feel that fucker didn't know exactly what he was doing when he drugged and kidnapped Justin," Brian growled, his utter contempt for the other man growing by leaps and bounds each day. "And that he didn't know exactly what he was doing today. He's NOT insane, he's OBSESSED," he stated flatly, as Justin leaned heavily against him, seeking physical as well as emotional support from his partner.

"I totally agree," Matthews intoned. "And I intend to prove that before this is over with, you can bet on that," he assured them. "Now you both need to go home and get some rest. This isn't over yet by a long shot," he countered. "Come on – I'll drive you back to your car," he advised them, as they both followed him out.

* * *

The interior of the 'Vette was totally quiet, except for the regular breathing by both men as they sat in companionable silence, trying to calm themselves after the tumultuous events of the past several hours.

Finally, Justin broke the silence, asking in a plaintive voice, "Brian? Do you really think Prescott will be found guilty?" Before Brian could protest, he explained, "I mean, I know in my heart the man knew exactly what he was doing, but could he be just calculating and evil enough, as well as intelligent enough, to actually convince a jury that he didn't know his actions were right from wrong at the time he committed them?"

Brian briefly closed his eyes; if he were totally honest with himself and Justin, he, too, had some of the same concerns. This was a very intelligent and devious man, who had a top, crack attorney representing him. Could Prescott actually pull this off? And worse yet, was he willing to voice that same concern to his partner, especially after what he had just been through today? He thought carefully before considering the answer he would give his partner who was looking at him now with great trepidation. _No, he wouldn't do that to him – he COULDN'T. He refused to think that that would ever happen – they deserved to be happy, damn it._

Turning to the man he loved deeply, he replied aloud with as much conviction as he could muster, "No, Sunshine, that's NOT going to happen. You hear me? He is NOT going to get away with this. Greg is going to lay out all the evidence in his closing arguments and the jury is going to see right through this fraud. Now we are going back to the loft and YOU are going to get some much-needed rest, okay?" He peered intently at him, waiting for an affirmative response.

Justin reached over and grasped the long fingers, receiving a squeeze in return. "Yes, sir," he said somewhat solemnly. "But only if YOU get some much-needed rest, too," he warned.

"Okay," Brian conceded. "I'll only fuck you into the mattress once tonight," he smirked, succeeding in receiving a small smile from the blond.

"Sounds like a plan to me, Mr. Kinney," Justin agreed, just before Brian started up the car and turned to exit the courthouse parking lot.


	25. Chapter 25: Decisions Made

_**A/N: Here's the next part – sorry it's not longer, but I thought this was a good place to stop it for this chapter. Thanks as always for the feedback and support – it's greatly appreciated. I hope to get more up very shortly!**_

As Justin held the loft entrance door open for Brian, he flipped on the overhead light and shuffled slowly into the foyer, glancing at his partner who was following along closely behind him. He noticed the brunet's tousled hair, mussed clothes, and tired face, no doubt an exact duplicate of his own; he was sure Brian must be feeling as emotionally and physically exhausted as he was by now. Reaching up a hand to softly caress his partner's cheek briefly, he was rewarded with a small, lopsided smile. "I'm okay," Brian reassured him simply, taking the other's slender, pale hand in his own. "Come on, Sunshine," he answered softly, pulling his partner along gently. He noticed Justin's eyes fluttering closed as he tried unsuccessfully to stay awake. "You're dead on your feet," he observed pointedly, concerned, hazel eyes scrutinizing the blond. As Justin suddenly swayed and struggled to stay upright, Brian didn't hesitate. Bending down to grasp his partner under the knees, he easily scooped the slender man up in his arms, Justin's arms automatically reaching up to wrap themselves around the other's neck. He carried his partner up the steps and into the bedroom; as Justin burrowed his face into his lover's chest, Brian placed a small kiss on top of the soft, blond head.

Gently disentangling himself now from the younger man, Brian slowly set Justin down on top of the king-sized bed, noticing how the slight body fell back as if it were spineless. As soon as Brian's arms let go of him, however, the blue eyes instantly opened. "Brian?" Justin asked, almost frantically searching for a second to make sure the man he loved was nearby.

"I'm right here," Brian assured him quickly, reaching down to brush an errant strand of blond hair from his partner's forehead as the sapphire eyes honed in on his hazel ones. Kneeling on the bed over Justin, he pulled off the other's shoes and pants to make him more comfortable, Justin following his every movement under heavily lidded eyes, struggling to stay awake now. "Go to sleep, Sunshine," Brian chided him softly. He chuckled slightly as he heard Justin mumble just before he turned on his side and fell into a deep slumber, "no fucking into the mattress for YOU tonight." Quickly shedding his own clothes, Brian reached down to pull the duvet over both of them as he spooned his long, lean body against the slender one and his arm wrapped itself around the blond's waist, Justin's own pale hand instantly placing itself over his. Placing a soft kiss below Justin's left earlobe where he was always so sensitive, both men were fast asleep within minutes.

*******************

The cacophonous bleating of the alarm clock startled Brian awake at precisely 8:00 a.m.; reaching over Justin, who in the middle of the night had turned over to face Brian on his side, he quickly hit the snooze button, hoping to grant his partner a few more precious minutes of shuteye. To his chagrin, however, he saw long eyelashes fluttering before the blue eyes slowly opened.

"Hey," the brunet greeted his partner softly, stroking the pale face tenderly with the back of his hand.

"Hey." Justin responded by reaching up to grasp the other man's hand and bringing it to his lips for a tender kiss on the palm, eliciting an involuntary shiver from his partner. Before he could move closer to impart an even more passionate kiss on the raspberry-colored lips, however, Brian pulled back. "As much as I'd like for us to continue this properly," he murmured regretfully, "we have to be at the courthouse in an hour. Come on, sleepy head," he coaxed, receiving a groan in reply. "Let's go take a shower. At least we can provide each us with a little entertainment in there," he added as an incentive.

Groaning again as Brian pulled the cover back, exposing him to the relatively cold air, he reluctantly allowed the brunet to pull him up from the bed. "I still need just a little nourishment to get my juices flowing," Justin purred, pulling the other man flush against him.

Kissing the other man soundly, Brian said, smiling, "I think your _juices_ are flowing just fine, thank you." _I am so glad to see you in a light-hearted mood, at least for a little _while, Brian thought. Smacking Justin on the butt and creating a small yelp of indignation from the other man, he tugged him into the bathroom to get ready for another day of drama.

* * *

Brian and Justin waited anxiously outside the side courtroom door. Greg had phoned them just before they left the loft to advise he would be meeting with Judge Mason and Sinclair at 8:30 a.m. in connection with his emergency request for a temporary restraining order against Prescott.

Sitting side by side on the floor, Brian glanced over at his partner, who was nervously fidgeting, hands silently drumming on his knees. Reaching over to touch the blond's thigh lightly, he noticed the blue eyes once again clouded over with worry. "Hey," he said, reaching over to grasp Justin's chin to turn his face toward his. "It's going to be okay, Justin," he soothed, his fingers tenderly caressing the smooth skin. "We've come this far already – we can see this through to the end. There's no fucking way they're going to let him come anywhere near you now – not after what he pulled yesterday." Brian had to shudder a little inside at the thought of just what that _creature_ could have done had he not confronted him in the restroom when he did.

Justin grasped the other man's hand against his face and gave it a little squeeze before releasing it. "I hope you're right, Brian, he said fretfully. "I can't feel safe anymore if I know I can run into him anytime, anywhere."

"I know," Brian responded softly. "But I won't let that happen EVER again," he promised. _I shouldn't have let it happen yesterday,_ he thought to himself. _Never again, Prescott._

Startled, Justin's heart started hammering rapidly inside his chest as he heard the nearby door opening suddenly as Greg appeared, searching for his client. "There you are," he acknowledged both men as they anxiously stood up to hear the results.

Greg didn't leave them waiting long. Smiling in approval, he advised them, "The judge denied the protective restraining order."

"WHAT!" Brian protested loudly, absolutely stunned. "Are you fucking kidding me? Why are you so HAPPY about that? I'm going to speak with the judge MYSELF!" he shouted, as Justin covered his hands in total dismay.

"Wait!" Greg implored urgently, grabbing Brian's arm. "Hear me out, guys. What I'm TRYING to say is that the emergency order wasn't needed, because the judge revoked his bail outright. The fucker's ass is going to jail, pending the outcome of the trial verdict," he announced smugly.

Brian released a loud, audible sigh of satisfaction, nodding in approval, as the blond's shoulders sagged in relief. He growled, "That's where that monster should have been from the start," as he placed a supportive arm around Justin's shoulders.

"That's great news, Greg," Justin answered, a slight smile on his face. At least he knew he could rest easy outside of the courtroom now, at least until the verdict is reached, that is. He didn't even want to think what might happen then.

"I've got some other news, by the way," Greg continued, as he noticed Justin tensing up. "I've just been told by Sinclair that his client has decided to testify after all. Apparently they don't feel the expert witness was a reliable enough advocate on which to rest their temporary insanity defense on. As soon as the trial reconvenes shortly, Prescott will be the last person called to the stand," he informed them.

Justin took a shaky breath and let it out. "What do you think, Greg? Is this a bad or a good move on their part?" he asked.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I think it's all going to come down to how he projects himself on the stand and if he trips himself up," he advised them. "Prescott may be totally off the wall and downright obsessed when it comes to you, Justin, but he's definitely NOT stupid. You can bet all your marbles that the two of them have rehearsed everything Sinclair's going to ask and everything Prescott is going to answer to slant his testimony exactly the way they want it to. They're obviously placing all their faith on this – he's going to make or break their case in the long run, because I feel he's looking at a guilty verdict so far based on the testimony you both gave." Looking at the two directly in the eye, he added, "But I'm not going to kid you. Prescott is slick, and he's got a top attorney who knows just the right kind of dog and pony show to give the jury."

Greg admitted, "This is not open and shut by any means. But as I told you before – by agreeing to testify, Prescott's also opening himself up to potentially damaging cross-examination. And you can sure as hell bet I will be going after him big time. Trust me, Justin. I will do my best to get that bastard nailed," he pledged firmly.

Justin sighed again, trying to release the butterflies once more fluttering in his stomach. "I know, Greg. I just hope it will enough," he replied tentatively, as Brian gave his shoulders another comforting squeeze.

The side door opened once again as the bailiff announced the impending resumption of the trial. "Let's get this freak show back on the road, gentlemen," Greg announced, as the two partners followed along behind him.


	26. Chapter 26: Crazy, or Crazy Like a Fox?

"The court calls Lane Prescott to the stand," the bailiff formally announced, as Justin held his breath. He and Brian had thankfully been able to take their seats before Prescott was brought out into the courtroom. Once again, the man was superbly dressed and perfectly groomed from his dark, wavy hair down to his polished, leather Gucci shoes. There was no outward sign of the man's numerous injuries he had sustained in his scuffle with Brian yesterday; no casual observer would have ever guessed that this poised, elegant man had been in the hospital last night with cuts and bruises all over his body.

Justin and Brian had found seats farther back this time – the last thing Justin wanted, particularly, was to be the subject of his tormentor's scrutiny while he was up on the stand. Even with the relative distance separating them from the witness stand, however, Justin couldn't help feeling jittery and slightly nauseous; he knew the trial was nearing its end and he still was not sure what the outcome would be. It seemed it all was going to hinge on how Lane did on the witness stand, according to Greg's estimation, and how successful he would be during the cross examination. _I hope you know what you're doing, Greg,_ he fervently vowed. _I'm counting on you here._

_You and Brian,_ the blond thought, glancing over fondly at his partner, the man who had stood by him through this whole ordeal, the man who had literally again saved his life during that time, twice. His protector. His lover. His soul mate. Justin vowed that when this was all over, no matter what the outcome, he would spend a considerable amount of time letting Brian know just how much he meant to him. As if he could read his thoughts, his partner chose that time to meet his gaze, saying nothing but conveying everything in the tender look and the slight, reassuring smile he gave him.

Both men's attention was redirected toward the front of the room as they heard Sinclair began his questioning: "Will you please state your name and address for the record?" the man asked.

"Lane Prescott, 148 Sycamore Terrace, New York City," the man smoothly replied.

"And what is your occupation, Mr. Prescott?" the attorney inquired professionally.

"I am CEO and Owner of Prescott Sportswear based out of New York City," he answered easily.

"I see. And how long have you operated your business, Mr. Prescott?"

"A little over 15 years now. I actually inherited it from my father," he explained.

"And is your enterprise a successful one?" Sinclair requested.

"Yes, very, if you call a multi-million business successful," Lane answered, somewhat smugly, Justin and Brian both felt.

"Okay. And does your business involve a lot of travel?"

"Yes. I have locations throughout the country, and I'm very hands on, so I frequently travel during the year."

"And did you have an occasion to travel to Pittsburgh on business approximately 18 months ago?" Sinclair probed, approaching the beginning of his client's involvement with Justin. The artist grimaced in dread of having to relive his experience from beginning to end, once again, for all the audience to absorb, including the eager press corps entrenched outside.

"Yes, I did."

"Would you extrapolate as to the reason why you were in Pittsburgh?" Sinclair pressed.

"I was in the city to launch my newest sportswear line, particularly targeting the gay community," the man reported.

"Okay. And during that period were you involved in a business relationship with the advertising agency known as Kinnetik and with its owner, Mr. Brian Kinney?" Sinclair asked pointedly.

"Yes."

"How did you happen to choose this particular agency?"

"I obtained a referral from Leo Brown, a friend of mine and the owner of Brown Athletics, who used Kinnetik for their advertising. He was very satisfied with their relationship," he explained smoothly.

"I see. And did you, indeed, meet personally with Mr. Kinney?"

"Yes, I did."

"So tell me, Mr. Prescott. Did Mr. Kinney make any advances toward you during this meeting?"

Greg instantly rose to his feet. "Objection, Your Honor. That question is totally irrelevant to the issue at hand," he protested.

"Sustained, Mr. Matthews," Judge Mason answered. "Mr. Sinclair, please stick to the subject at hand and redirect your line of questioning."

"Yes, Your Honor," the defense attorney replied. Turning toward his client, he asked instead, "Did you decide to use Kinnetik's services?"

"Yes, I did," Prescott verified.

"Okay. Now while you were in Pittsburgh on business, did you happen to become involved with a benefit being held for the Pittsburgh Gay & Lesbian Alliance?"

"Yes, I was."

"And what format did your involvement take?" the defense attorney asked.

"I was asked to showcase some pieces of my new sportswear line during the benefit. I had models wearing several outfits while the benefit was being held," the man explained.

"And did you personally attend this benefit?" Sinclair inquired.

"Yes, I did."

"Okay. While you were there, Mr. Prescott, did you wind up purchasing a painting contributed by Mr. Justin Taylor?" At the mention of Justin's name, Brian looked over at his partner, sensing his agitation and nervousness. Reaching a hand over to grasp the pale, slender one, he squeezed it in silent support as he heard his lover's breath hitch. Brian knew how difficult the next part of Prescott's testimony was going to be; it was only going to get even harder from here on out. He watched as Justin closed his eyes, the experience beginning to wash over him again. Somehow hearing the actual words coming out of Prescott just made it more vivid to them both.

Prescott faltered for a few seconds at the mention of Justin's name; it was the first time anyone could sense any hesitation in his responses. He smiled slightly, as if he was remembering a pleasant memory. "Yes, I did," he replied softly.

"And did you in fact purchase this painting with a stipulation attached?" Sinclair pressed.

"Yes, I did."

"And what was that stipulation, Mr. Prescott?" Sinclair knew he was about to tread into precarious territory. He had to someone make the jury understand that his client's fascination with the talented, blond artist had eventually evolved into an obsession that was so pervasive, it had somehow evoked a condition of temporary insanity in a man who was normally quite lucid and on top of his game.

"I bid on the painting with the understanding that Justin would have dinner with me the next day," he answered, even now his voice taking on a different type of inflection when he said the artist's name in an almost reverent tone.

"And would you say this type of behavior is typical of you, Mr. Prescott?" the attorney asked pointedly.

Lane paused briefly before replying softly, "No, it is not."

"How is it not typical then?"

He smiled, again seeming to take on a smug, almost arrogant air. "Well, usually the other guy is the one pursuing ME," he pointed out, this time finding Brian's stare and glaring at him in a silent challenge. "I'm usually the one being hit on."

"Why do you think that is the case?" Sinclair asked, as if the question even had to be presented.

"Well, I have been fortunate to have accumulated a great deal of wealth, and I'm attractive. Money and looks are always an irresistible pull." Brian had to snort audibly at that comment, an action not lost on Justin; the arrogance of this man never ceased to amaze both of them, even now.

"Okay, so how did you even know you would be interested in this artist?"

"He was standing next to the painting he had created when I overheard him talking to a friend of his, before the auction began that night," he explained.

"I see. So you recognized his painting during the auction and decided to bid on it with the condition attached?" Sinclair asked for clarification.

"That's correct. I was actually more interested in the artist than the artwork," he divulged. Again Prescott smiled at the recollection of the first moment he had seen Justin and how mesmerized he was by the other man. Hell, he STILL felt that way, even after the man's pit bull boyfriend had assaulted him. He only wished he could tell the jury exactly what had happened yesterday afternoon, but unfortunately the judge had made it perfectly clear this morning that as an additional condition of his bail being revoked, he could NOT reveal any information regarding what had happened in the restroom yesterday. _Well,_ he thought, _I'm already in jail – we'll just SEE about that, Kinney._

"All right. So we already know by Mr. Taylor's previous testimony that he agreed to have dinner with you after you successfully bid on the painting."

"That's correct," Prescott verified.

"And the courtroom has already been advised that you and Mr. Taylor met for dinner alone at the _La Masionette_ Restaurant Sunday night, the day after the auction ended?"

"Yes."

"Okay. So tell the courtroom, Mr. Prescott, what your impression of Mr. Taylor was the first time you met him."

Sinclair noticed his client's instant change in demeanor, from reserved and detached to emotional, at the mention of Justin Taylor's name. He had already cautioned his client not to be effusive in his comments, but to keep them short and succinct.

Prescott smiled almost dreamily as he answered, "I thought he was fascinating. I was totally captivated," he admitted simply. Even now, Justin continued to have this inexplicable hold on him. No one had ever made him feel the way he felt, and still feels, about this particular man. He reluctantly came out of his temporary daydreaming state as he heard his attorney asking him another question.

"And how did he feel about you?" Sinclair prodded.

Justin cringed at this line of questioning. _Why the hell is it important he drag this out? What difference does it make how I felt THEN? That was way before I knew what a creepy, dangerous man Lane was. _He also did not like to have to rehash the whole experience with Brian at his side; it just dredged up unpleasant memories of the time when they were apart. _We're going to have to work on replacing those memories with some better ones once this is over,_ he vowed silently to his partner.

"I think he enjoyed my company; in fact, I'm sure of it," he answered confidently. "He agreed to go out with me again the next night. And he let me kiss him while we were dancing in the restaurant, and when we said goodbye." While reliving that wonderful time, Lane couldn't help glancing over where he knew Justin was in the courtroom to take a look; despite the blond's attempt to stay practically hidden from him, Lane knew immediately where he was as soon as he entered the courtroom. There was just something about Justin that radiated from him, despite his attempts to shield himself from the other man. Lane thought he could easily find Justin in a sold-out stadium if he had to.

Justin covered his eyes, partly in an attempt to escape from Lane's pointed gaze, and partly out of shame. Shame from the way he had been suckered into accepting Lane's attention and even encouraging it to a certain extent, and shame that he had given up so quickly on his and Brian's relationship, which at the time was at a standstill. Brian simply stared the other man down, hatred and fury ablaze in the hazel eyes. He continued to lock eyes with the other man for several seconds, two alpha males fighting for dominance, until Prescott finally looked away in partial surrender.

"Mr. Prescott?" Sinclair cleared his throat, trying to get the other man's notice. Inside he was seething at his client for such an overt attempt to get Justin Taylor's attention. _You're treading on thin ice here, Lane. Better watch it. _Finally, his client reluctantly turned his concentration back toward the attorney, who was trying hard to disguise his disgust toward his client's actions.

"And the two of you went out the next day for dinner and a visit to the New York Museum of Modern Art in New York City, correct?" he asked his client, trying hard to maintain a professional, detached demeanor.

"That's correct," Prescott answered, again smiling at the recollection. "We had a wonderful time," he felt the urge to add, elaborating.

"Please, Mr. Prescott, just answer the question yes or no," Sinclair admonished. He couldn't stand it any longer – he HAD to get his client back on track.

"Sorry," Prescott mumbled somewhat contritely, although he was clearly irritated with his attorney for trying to cut him short.

"Yes. Well, after your second date, you again saw Mr. Taylor briefly for dinner onboard your jet just before your return to New York City, correct?" Sinclair asked.

"Yes, that's correct." Prescott, thankfully, had the foresight to just answer the question, and not expound upon it for a change.

"And during that dinner, did you ask Mr. Taylor to accompany you back to New York City?" his attorney queried.

"Yes, I did," he answered without reservation. _You don't know how badly I wanted you to go with me, Angel. _Even now, Prescott's pulse raced as he thought about what could have been, if only Justin had agreed to go with him. _Everything would have been perfect._

"And what was your reaction when Mr. Taylor declined?" _Careful, Lane, think before you answer this one,_ he tried to silently caution his client. They had spoken about the best responses to several of his questions; he fervently hoped that his client would heed his advice about them as he waited for the other man's response.

"I was very disappointed that he wouldn't agree. I would have given him the world," he whispered longingly. Even now, he had a large lump in his throat as he repeated the same words he had told Justin that evening. He would STILL give him the world, if only he would let him.

"Yes, uh, well….." Sinclair again cleared his throat, partially in annoyance and partially to try and warn his client he was precipitously close to heading in the wrong direction. "What else happened when he told you he did not want to go with you?"

"I'm not sure what you mean." Prescott suddenly answered vaguely this time.

"Well, Mr. Taylor had previously stated in his testimony that he was somewhat afraid of your reaction after he declined your invitation. He alleged you attempted to detain him by taking a hold of his arm." _Careful, Prescott, he silently warned again._

"Well, I admit I DID take a hold of his arm briefly, but it was just to get his attention. I NEVER tried to hold him there against his will. In fact, as soon as he indicated he did not want to accompany me to New York, as I said I was very disappointed, but I acceded to his wishes and I immediately let him go, albeit reluctantly," the man insisted, a sad expression of longing on his face.

"That's BULLSHIT!" Brian hissed out loud, trying with great difficulty to not shout it out. It took all he had NOT to stand up and yell it at the other man. He recalled what Justin had told him, and how the blond had been trembling as he held him in his arms afterward; that was NOT the response of a man who had nothing to fear. He knew Justin well enough by now to know that he had been upset and fearful while he hugged him; he had no doubt that what his partner had told him was the absolute truth, and that the man up on the witness stand was lying through his fucking teeth. The nerve of the other man never ceased to astound him, even after all this time.

"So you are saying you did nothing out of line to try and prevent him from leaving?" Sinclair pressed his client.

"That's correct," Prescott answered simply. _NOW the fucker decides to shut his trap, _Brian snarled to himself.

"Okay. Now let's move on to more recent events. Do you admit that you sent the four gifts to Mr. Taylor with notes signed _from a secret admirer?"_ Sinclair inquired.

"Yes, I did," the man answered without hesitation, as if he were proud of the fact and wanted everyone to know it.

"Okay. And why did you decide after all this time had elapsed to send Mr. Taylor gifts?"

"Well, just because I hadn't seen him in several months didn't mean I had stopped thinking about him. Truth it, I NEVER stopped thinking about him. I thought sending him the gifts anonymously was romantic, and that he would eventually figure out it was me sending them to him. He always did enjoy being romanced," Lane announced, sure of himself. _You DO deserve to be romanced, Angel,_ he thought dreamily.

Again Brian huffed in disgust. The man's arrogance was astounding. Deep down, however, Brian was also tremendously annoyed by the fact that this man could profess to know his partner so well in the relatively short time he had been with him. _Fucker – if anyone is going to romance Justin, it will be ME, never YOU,_ he vowed. Besides, Brian knew he had changed from the man he used to be – before he would have never in his right mind considered presenting his partner with romantic gifts or gestures, but now he found he could actually on occasion come up with a proper gesture of affection on his own. The gestures were purely Brian Kinney, though. To others, buying a new loft for him and his partner to live in together, or coming home the same time every day from work might not seem like a grand romantic gesture to most people, but he knew to Justin it meant everything to him. And he was determined to go on showing the man he loved just how much he cherished him for the rest of their lives.

Brian turned his attention back to the arrogant man still sitting in the witness chair as Sinclair continued. "So you assumed Mr. Taylor would eventually recognize you as the sender of his anonymous gifts?" Sinclair asked his client.

"Yes, I did." Prescott confirmed.

"But he didn't, did he?" Sinclair pressed.

"No, he didn't," Prescott admitted, sounding disappointed that he did not get the proper credit for his creatively unique idea to surprise the man he adored.

"And you actually found out his partner had placed a security system around their loft as a result of him receiving your gifts, correct?" Sinclair asked.

Prescott didn't try to hide his disgust. "Yes, I did," he practically snarled.

"Mr. Kinney, in fact, testified that he did NOT have one of his employees call the security firm he utilized to cancel the security detail he had set up. He claims YOU had a part in that. Is that the truth, Mr. Prescott?" he asked the man pointedly, waiting anxiously for his client's response; they had reviewed this question in depth this morning before they entered the courtroom.

"I admit I did employ the detective, Mr. Kingsley, who has been accused of _allegedly_ installing a wiretap on Mr. Kinney's phone and _supposedly_ obtaining the cancellation code that way. But I did NOT instruct him to do so," he insisted firmly.

"Oh, my fucking God," Brian exclaimed, so loudly that several other spectators turned to him to look. The brunet ignored the pointed stares of the others, turning instead to his partner in undisguised disbelief. "That son of a bitch!" he hissed. "Does he really think anyone's going to believe that shit?!"

"Quiet!" Judge Mason barked. "Quiet in the courtroom! Mr. Kinney, if you cannot contain your verbal outbursts, you will be removed from this courtroom, do I make myself clear?" he sternly admonished him.

Brian sighed in undisguised scorn before letting out a disgusted breath and muttering, "Yes, sir."

The judge continued to stare at him for several seconds before stating, "Very well, then. You may proceed, Mr. Sinclair."

"Thank you, Your Honor," the attorney acknowledged glibly. "So you deny any involvement in the cancellation of Mr. Kinney's security attachment while he was out of town?"

"Yes, I do," Prescott answered. "If my detective arranged for that subterfuge, it was NOT at my direction."

Greg Matthews scribbled down his notes furiously; the man's arrogance and out and out falsifications were unbelievable. Surely he didn't think the jury was going to believe this story? He was eagerly looking forward to his opportunity to grill the man during cross-examination later. _Keep putting those nails in your coffin, you bastard._

"Okay. But you DO admit to enlisting the help of two of your friends, Mr. Beldon and Mr. Comisar, to arrange for Mr. Taylor and his partner, Mr. Kinney, to be separated so you could instrument a reunion with Mr. Taylor, correct?" Sinclair asked his client.

"Well, yes, I do admit that I asked two of my oldest friends for a little help. But I simply asked Jack to invite Kinney to Chicago to pitch an ad campaign to him for an opportunity that could result in some highly sought-after business, and I only asked Vince to grant Justin a commission for some paintings that I knew my friend would appreciate, and I knew Justin would be more than capable of fulfilling the request. I don't feel I did anything wrong by just giving the two of them an opportunity to obtain some lucrative business," he stated matter-of-factly.

_Oh, my God,_ Justin thought. _He really thinks he's some kind of fucking fairy godfather or something. _Looking over at Brian's look of utter contempt, he knew his partner was having similar thoughts.

"Okay, Mr. Prescott. So let's discuss the trip Mr. Taylor and Mr. Comisar made to Lancaster, on the pretense of Mr. Taylor providing some paintings for his restaurants that were being remodeled," Sinclair continued. "You do admit that you arranged for your friend, Mr. Comisar, to request Mr. Taylor's presence at the _Chez Laurent_ so you could ultimately be reunited with him, correct?"

"Yes, I admit that I wanted to see Justin again," he confessed. _How could any man NOT want that to be in the company of that beautiful man again? _he wondered silently.

"Okay. So you waited in the back room for Mr. Taylor to appear with the concierge, correct?"

"Yes, I recall that," Prescott began tentatively, a seemingly confused look abruptly showing on his face as he apparently tried to recall the events surrounding his much-anticipated reunion with Justin.

"Okay. But Mr. Taylor didn't want to stay to have lunch with you, correct?" Sinclair pressed.

The other man stammered before he said, "I THINK that's correct."

Brian and Justin exchanged puzzled looks; _what was this fucker trying to pull now?_

"What do you mean, you THINK that's correct?" the attorney asked, appearing to be confused himself by his client's response.

"Well, to be honest, from the time Justin appeared, the subsequent events are very muddled in my mind." Prescott briefly closed his eyes as if he were trying to furiously recall exactly what happened after he finally was reunited with the man who had captivated him so long ago.

"Are you saying you do not recall the events that occurred after you were reunited with Mr. Taylor at the restaurant?" Sinclair asked, sounding somewhat incredulous.

Prescott looked sheepishly at the attorney for a few seconds before replying, "Yes, that is what I'm saying. From the time Justin sat down and I began to talk to him, I do not recall exactly what happened afterward until I found myself in handcuffs on board the police boat a few hours later."

Before Justin had a chance to stop him, Brian erupted, standing up to scream at the top of his voice, "I fucking don't BELIEVE this!" He glared at Prescott now, fury in his eyes as he continued, "You lying piece of SHIT! This is total BULLSHIT!" he screamed. "Don't you see what he's doing?" he cried plaintively, as Justin desperately tried to pull his partner's arm to try and get him to sit down and be quiet.

The judge urgently pounded his gavel on the desk to try and get the room under control, as the courtroom exploded into pandemonium, several spectators loudly commenting on what was happening. "Order! Order!" the judge shouted firmly. "Mr. Kinney! You were warned previously." Motioning to two sheriff's deputies at his side, he instructed them, "Remove Mr. Kinney from the courtroom now! And if you say ONE more word, Mr. Kinney, I will hold you in contempt of court. You are jeopardizing this trial, do you understand?" he continued to lecture the brunet. "Is that what you want?" he asked the other man pointedly.

"Brian!" Justin cried, desperately trying to calm his partner down. "Please," he beseeched the other man frantically. Brian looked at Justin, whose eyes were tear-filled with worry – worry over Brian's welfare and worry that the trial they had endured for so long could be in jeopardy. "Please," he repeated again, grasping the other man's arm in an attempt to pacify him.

Brian's shoulders finally sagged a little as the two deputies approached him. "I'm sorry, Sunshine," he whispered. "It couldn't be helped," he offered as an explanation. I'll be right outside," he told his partner, his eyes conveying his regret at the outburst. He wasn't sorry he had yelled at Prescott, but he WAS sorry that he wouldn't be in the courtroom with Justin while he had to endure the rest of the son of a bitch's testimony. He resignedly walked away with the two deputies as they led him out the back door.

"Mr. Sinclair," the judge stated, finally turning his attention back to the attorney. "You may continue your questioning of the witness," he instructed him.

"Thank you, Your Honor," Sinclair responded. "Now, Mr. Prescott, let me ask you again. Are you telling this courtroom that you do NOT recall any of the events that occurred AFTER you met with Mr. Taylor for dinner at the _Chez Laurent?"_ he pointed asked his client.

"That is what I am saying, Mr. Sinclair," Prescott affirmed.

"So what exactly is the last thing you DO recall about that day?" the attorney pressed him.

"I remember saying hello to Justin and asking him to sit down with me for lunch. Everything after that is all a blur. I only know what others have told me, nothing else. It's as if all the events happened to someone else," Prescott contended.

Justin sat there, totally stunned. _How stupid does this man think we are? Does he honestly think everyone's going to believe that?_ Just when he thought he could imagine every scenario that might occur during this trial, Prescott throws a new one into the mix. _Surely the jury is NOT going to buy this, are they?_ For his and Brian's sake, he couldn't even conceive of the idea.

He turned back to Sinclair as he continued to question his client. "So let me repeat my question, Mr. Prescott. You are testifying that to this day you do NOT recall the events that occurred on that day immediately after you met Mr. Taylor for lunch at your friend, Mr. Comisar's, restaurant in Lancaster? That the next event you recall is when you were being arrested by the Lancaster PD? Is that your response?" he asked the man pointedly.

"Yes, that's correct," Prescott insisted firmly.

Sinclair appeared to let out a surprised breath; whether it was for show or the truth, no one could know. He finally turned to the judge and announced, "I have no further questions at this time, Your Honor."

The judge looked at the clock on the wall before answering, "Very well, Counselor. This trial now stands in recess for the day. We will resume at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow for cross-examination." Rapping his gavel on the desk, Mason left his podium as the spectators stood up for the judge's exit, everyone excitedly murmuring to each other over the surprising turn of events.

As everyone slowly filtered out of the courtroom, Justin, his mother, and his friends all continued to sit cemented to their seats, too stunned to move as they tried to comprehend what had just happened.


	27. Chapter 27: Who to Believe?

Justin absentmindedly picked up a French fry and swirled it in the catsup on his plate, as he and Brian sat in a booth at the Liberty Diner; Greg had joined them shortly after they arrived to discuss today's events at the trial.

"So were you as surprised as we were by Prescott's amnesia claim?" Justin asked him, still stunned over the afternoon's tumultuous events.

"Absolutely," Greg verified. "I never saw that one coming - That was the LAST stunt I expected Prescott to pull," he answered, shaking his head. "I'm still in disbelief, although maybe I should have expected it. That's just the type of outrageous circus and pony act I've seen Sinclair try to pull off in the past."

"But, come ON," Brian growled. "I mean, does the fucker really think the jury's going to believe that he suddenly lost his memory of what happened? How convenient," he sneered.

"Greg?" Justin looked over at the suddenly silent attorney, who appeared to be deep in thought. "You DO agree with Brian, right?"

Greg sighed softly. "You know, as outlandish as it may sound to us, I've been doing this long enough to know that you can never guess what is going through a jury's mind. And I know it's not what you want to hear, but his unbelievable story just might be absurd enough to be believed."

"What?!" both Brian and Justin cried simultaneously. "You've GOT to be kidding me," Brian added, as Justin nodded in agreement.

"Look at it this way," Greg explained quickly, raising his hands in capitulation. "Let me play devil's advocate here. I'm in NO way saying I believe him," he assured both men. "But what better explanation could there be for a powerful, self-assured man who runs an intricate, multi-million dollar company on a daily basis and hobnobs with the jet set than for him to temporarily go off the deep end? He's counting on everyone believing that that has to be the ONLY explanation," he cautioned them. Before the two could raise their voices in protest, however, Greg continued. "Hear me out. I'm saying that is ONE plausible scenario that could be used by Sinclair to explain what happened. But of course it's not the only one, or the actual reason. You know what really happened – the man became obsessed with someone he couldn't have and was willing to take whatever measures he needed to get what, or in this case, WHO he wanted. It's going to be my job to make sure the jury believes us and not Prescott."

"Well, that's the fucking $64,000 question, isn't it?" Brian said. "Who is the jury going to believe?"

Nodding in assent, Greg added, "That's why the cross-examination is going to be crucial tomorrow. We have to try and trip the son of a bitch up, so the jury knows just how calculating the man is." Standing up, he informed them, "Which is my cue to leave. I need to review all of his testimony in depth so I'm ready tomorrow." Shaking both of their hands, he suggested to them, "Go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."

Just before he left, Justin had one more question. "Do you think the trial will go to the jury tomorrow, Greg?"

The attorney bit his lip briefly in thought. "Hard to tell – depends upon how long the closing arguments go on. I'm sure both Sinclair and I will have plenty to say," he answered cryptically. "If I were a betting man, though, since Prescott is being cross-examined first thing tomorrow, I think by the end of the day it WILL be handed to the jury for their deliberation. I'll see you two first thing tomorrow." Nodding to both men, he headed toward the exit, leaving the two partners alone as they sat side by side.

Justin let out a frustrated sigh, as Brian glanced over at his troubled expression. He reached his arm and placed it around the blond's slender shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. Receiving a slight smile in return, he whispered softly, "Let's so home." Justin nodded as he allowed Brian to tug his hand gently to pull him against the toned body. He took advantage of their position to give his partner a tender but passionate kiss.

"Mmmm," Justin mumbled against the other man's lips. "Best therapy a man could ever have," he murmured, as his hands wrapped themselves around the brunet's waist.

Chuckling softly in return, Brian nuzzled his partner's neck, licking a path from his nape up to behind the blond's ear, eliciting a shiver of delight from the artist. "What do you say we resume your _treatment_ at home, Sunshine?" he whispered to the other man suggestively. "I think today's stressful events call for a deep, penetrating massage, followed by a long, hot shower after a down and dirty session with your chief therapist." Justin moaned as Brian started to reach for his cock, both momentarily forgetting where they were, which was not uncommon for them.

"Hey, you two!" They were startled out of their private world by Debbie's shrill greeting. "Enough of the triple X show!" she grumbled good naturedly. "Take it outside - we've got kids trying to fucking EAT here!"

Grinning a little sheepishly, Justin replied, "Sorry, Deb." Pulling his partner's hand, he said, "Let's go, Brian," before Justin waved briefly at Debbie. Just before the two of them opened the diner door to depart, they heard Debbie say, "Good luck tomorrow, Sunshine. Carl and I will be there just as soon as my shift's over tomorrow morning." Before leaving, both men smiled in gratitude at the brassy lady they both loved as part of their family.

* * *

The next day as Brian steered them toward the parking lot at the side of the courthouse, Justin was astounded by the number of press reporters and cameramen stationed by the main front doors. The number of people there seemed to have practically doubled in size overnight, no doubt hoping that the trial would go to the jury today and they could report all the sensational details to their hungry viewers later. "I sure am glad Greg arranged for us to enter through the side door," Justin commented, shuddering slightly in distaste at the thought of having to push his way through the throng of people stationed by the main door. "There's no way I could have handled entering through the main doors, with all those people shoving a camera and microphone in my face."

"Well, if they had tried, they would have had a fucking microphone shoved up their ASS ," Brian vowed protectively.

"I'm just so relieved that Judge Mason decided to permit you back into the courtroom today," Justin told his partner. "There's no way I could have gone through this today without you."

Brian briefly glanced over and took the blond's hand. "Me, too, Sunshine. I just hope Greg's able to get the jury to see through Prescott's bullshit."

Justin bit his lip nervously. "Yeah, me, too. You don't know how much I'm counting on that. Brian, they've just GOT to believe Greg. If the jury finds him not guilty by reason of temporary insanity, Greg said the most he would get would be confinement to a mental facility, where they would regularly check his mental status. He told me if they ultimately find his mental "condition" under control with medication, he could walk out a free man after only being in there for a short time! I don't want this man to rule my life, but if he's allowed to walk I could never feel safe, even if you're there to help protect me. If he could do what he did before, he's capable of anything!" Despite his vow to himself that he would not get upset, Justin couldn't help the unshed tears from forming at the thought of having to live in constant fear of what Prescott might do.

"Justin," Brian scolded him gently. "Do NOT go there. He is NOT going to walk, do you hear me?" As he placed the 'Vette in a parking spot and turned off the motor, he reached over to gently grasp the other man's chin in his hand. "Are you listening to me? He's NOT going to win this battle," he pledged to him. "Okay?"

Justin pursed his lips, trying desperately to believe what Brian was telling him. After several seconds, he answered simply, "Okay. You've never lied to me, Brian, so I choose to believe that you're right. It's the ONLY possible outcome there can be, right?" he asked his partner hopefully.

"You bet," Brian assured him, as he reached over to kiss the full lips tenderly. "We'd better get in there," he reminded his partner gently, as he released his hold on the other man and reached to open the driver's door. Justin joined him shortly by the back of the car, as the two instantly reached for the other's hand and walked toward the side entrance.

* * *

"This court is now in session!" the bailiff announced, as Justin and Brian took their seats toward the middle of the courtroom. They decided to relocate a little bit closer this time, so they could plainly hear their attorney's cross examination of Prescott.

"I will remind the defendant that he is still under oath," Judge Mason cautioned Prescott, who nodded in understanding as he resumed his place on the witness stand. As usual, Prescott was attired in the latest and most expensive fashion, from his dark blue silk tie to his black Gucci loafers, and as always he was the epitome of an affluent, powerful industry mogul.

"Counselor?" the judge addressed the prosecuting attorney. "Are you prepared for the cross-examination?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Matthews verified, as he rose from his seat. Walking firmly toward the defendant, he began by asking Prescott to review once again his influential standing in the sportswear industry.

"And you graduated summa cum laude from the University of Chicago, correct?" Prescott asked him.

"That's correct," Prescott confirmed, adopting a smug air as he answered. "I was the valedictorian of the class, in fact."

_La-dee-da,_ Brian sneered to himself.

Greg continued to ask Prescott questions regarding his education. "And I believe that is also where you first became acquainted with Mr. Belden, is it not?" he inquired.

"Yes, that's correct. We were both fraternity brothers in Sigma Alpha Chi."

"I see. And you have maintained a relationship with Mr. Belden ever since then?" he pressed.

"Yes, that's right," Prescott answered amiably enough.

"So when you asked Mr. Belden if he would invite Mr. Kinney to Chicago to pitch an ad campaign to him, Mr. Belden readily agreed."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Was Mr. Belden apprised of the exact reason WHY you made the request of him?"

"Actually, no," the man admitted.

"No? Then just what DID you say to your former fraternity brother?" Matthews asked.

"I just told him I needed a favor, and what it entailed. He trusts me – he didn't really ask any questions. Besides, he knew Kinney's reputation and was only too happy to entertain him for me."

"_Entertain him_?" Matthews asked curiously. "What exactly do you mean by that, Mr. Prescott?"

For the first time that morning, Prescott appeared a little uncomfortable at the direction Matthews' questions were taking. Stammering just a little as his façade broke slightly, he explained, "Well, he had heard of Kinnetik's reputation in the advertising spectrum and his way of thinking outside the box, as he put it, so he was already curious as to what type of cam paign the man would come up with for his company."

"I see. So you're telling me that your friend agreed to listen to Mr. Kinney's advertising pitch just because you asked him to?"

"Yes."

"And he had no idea you were using him to stalk Mr. Kinney's partner?" Matthews prodded, his voice raising.

"Objection, Your Honor!" Sinclair pounced, jumping to his feet.

"Sustained – Mr. Matthews…." the judge began.

"I apologize, Your Honor," Greg replied. "I withdraw the question." _I still got my point across, though, you son of a bitch. _

"All right, Mr. Prescott. Moving onto another question . You still attest that you knew nothing about Mr. Kingsley's duplicity in assuming the identity of Mr. Kinney's associate, Ted Schmidt, to cancel the security detail at h is and Mr. Taylor's loft residence?" Matthews peered at him intently, trying his best to somehow intimidate the other man.

Prescott, however, was not to be spooked so easily. "That's what I am saying. If Mr. Kingsley DID pretend to be Mr. Kinney's associate, it was NOT under my direction," he stated smo othly. _It was worth every bit of money I paid to that fucker to lie for me,_ Prescott thought smugly.

"Don't you find it hard to believe, Mr. Prescott, that a man who has been under your employment for over 10 years would take it upon himself to commit fraud just to stay in your good graces?" Greg couldn't keep the disdain and disbelief from seeping into his voice.

Defensively, Prescott shot back, "I don't care WHAT you think, MR. Matthews, I can't read Mr. Kingsley's mind and tell you why he did it. I'm just saying I had nothing to do with his decision."

Brian muttered under his breath, "That lying piece of shit," afraid to say anything too loudly for fear Mason would have him ejected again from the courtroom, or worse. It was too important that he be in the courtroom today to support his partner. Prescott's retort to Greg's last question at least meant the arrogant son of a bitch's facade was cracking just a bit at last.

"But you DO admit that you sent all those gifts and notes to Mr. Taylor?"

Again, Prescott's voice took on a defensive tone as he answered the prosecutor, acting as if he were answering a child. "YES, Mr. Matthews. I think that has already been established. The last time I looked, though, there was no law against sending gifts to someone you are attracted to."

"No, " Greg admitted. "But most people don't go to the lengths that you did to be reunited with Mr. Taylor."

"Well, _most people_ can't AFFORD to, either," Prescott shot back, earning a warning glare from his own attorney. The last impression Sinclair wanted his client to give was that of an arrogant, self-satisfied bastard, and Prescott was coming perilously close to doing just that.

"Nevertheless, Mr. Prescott, you went to a lot of trouble just to have a reunion lunch with Mr. Taylor, did you not?"

"Yes, I did, but again, that's NOT a crime, Mr. Matthews." Prescott's blood pressure was rising as he became more and more agitated with the prosecutor's condescending line of questioning.

"No , it's not, Mr. Prescott. But it IS to drug someone's drink and kidnap him!" he shouted.

"Enough!" Sinclair exploded this time. "Your Honor, my colleague is totally out of control! He is badgering and maligning my client!" he stated vehemently.

"Sustained! Mr. Matthews, this line of questioning is out of line. Please keep your questions to the facts of this trial!" Mason commanded. "Objection is sustained."

Sighing, Matthews answered, somewhat frustrated, "Yes, Your Honor." Turning again to Prescott, he once more went on the offensive. "Mr. Prescott, you still maintain that you have no me mory whatsoever from the time Mr. Taylor drunk a toast with you to the time you were placed in handcuffs on board the police patrol boat approximately two hours later?"

"That is correct." Prescott answered, his face seeming to cloud over with a concerted effort to try and remember what had occurred. The man's continuing claim that he suddenly came do wn with a convenient case of amnesia due to a temporary bout of insanity still made Brian shake his head in total disgust and made Justin's stomach churn. A sour taste of bile rose in the blond's throat as he thought of how Prescott could be so cavalier and unfeeling about what he had done, as he totally turned his world upside down and almost cost him his life in the process. Any feelings of respect or affection he might have had for Prescott had long ago died away as he understood all too clearly just what type of man Prescott was, and the lengths he had gone to in his pursuit of him. It also made him appreciate and love even more the man sitting beside him that had stood by him through the whole ordeal.

"Mr. Prescott," Greg said, unable to hide the utter scorn now from his voice, "Don't you think it's mighty convenient that you developed an inexplicable case of memory lapse just as Mr . Taylor's very life was placed in jeopardy?"

"You can call it what you want, Mr. Matthe ws, but I can't change what happened, OR explain it. I would never do anything that would place Justin in any danger."

Brian had to literally cap his hand over his mouth to prevent the loud snort that would have escaped at Prescott's statement. The NERVE of this man was astounding. _You'd better hope I never get you alone again, you asshole, or there won't BE any need for a jury verdict._

Matthews again sighed – he realized this slick, arrogant bastard was not going to change his contention that he was temporarily incapacitated during the most critical events of Justin's torment. He was going to have to hold ou t hope that the jury would see through Prescott's treachery and outline just how preposterous the man's story was during his closing arguments.

"Your Honor," he finally decided. "I have no further questions of this witness."

"The witness may step down," the judge instructed him, as Prescott confidently departed from the chair to retake his place at Sinclair's side, a slight smile on his lips as he looked over at his attorney, who in turn nodded slightly in satisfaction.

Rapping his gavel on the desk, the judge declared a trial break for lunch, as spectators reporting for the press corps rushed from the room to announce the latest bit of juicy testimony from the accused.

Greg motioned for his client and Brian to join him toward the back of the courtroom, secluded enough from the prying eyes and ears of others in attendance. "That didn't go as well as I would have hoped," he admitted to them reluctantly. "The man is smooth, I'll give him that. Sinclair has obviously coached him well."

"Yeah, coached him on how to spout total bullshit!" Brian snarled. "Does he really think a jury is going to believe that fucking nonsense?" he asked the attorney. Justin stood next to his partner, the weariness threatening to overtake him again. How he wished this were all over. It seemed like an eternity since he had first m e t Prescott, instead of a year and a half. He wished to hell he ha d never met the man, and now his and Brian's life, as well as Prescott's, would soon be in the hands of 12 total strangers.

Trying to sound more confident and upbeat, Greg turned to both men and assured them, "Our best shot is going to be during the closing arguments. I can't wait to pummel that bastard's outrageous claims and show the jury just how monumentally impossible it would be to plan what he did and be insane at the time. Before I get through," he vowed, "everyone will know just what a calculating, devious prick the man is."

Justin briefly closed his eyes, almost in silent prayer. "I hope you're right, Greg. This trial has been one surprise after another." Smiling wistfully a little, he indicated, "I appreciate everyt hing you've done, but at this point I can't say I have any fucking idea how this is going to turn out," he said, clearly frustrated. "And I have a feeling YOU don't, either," he added, pointedly, as both he and Brian peered at him.

"No, I guess I don't, gentlemen," Matthews answered truthfully. "I usually have a strong feeling one way or the other how a trial is going. I think the manual was thrown out on this one, though."

* * *

"Mr. Sinclair," Judge Mason stated, "Are you ready for presentation of closing arguments?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Sinclair confirmed, as he stood to address the jury.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, my client, Lane Prescott, has worked fervently for several years to develop his father's company into a strong, vital, and powerful conglomerate. Furthermore, from a personal perspective, he is obviously an attractive, intelligent, and resourceful man who wields a great deal of influence in his field. My client undoubtedly co uld have his pick of ANY man. He certainly does NOT have to resort to drugging and kidnapping an unwilling participant to obtain companionship. The absurdity of this accusation is re adily apparent, ladies and gentlemen. Why would my client risk everything he has obtained for the affections of one particular man?

My client's expert witness, Dr. Stevens, has previously testified that it is quite possible for a person to develop a temporary break from the real world during situations of great stress; my client is a vital p articipant in an environment that is demanding and always evolving, no doubt provoking periods of constant challenge and risk.

There has been no attempt to deny that Mr. Prescott was involved at the time Mr. Taylor was drugged and taken against his will onboard my client's yacht. However, the only logical explanation for this aberrant behavior has to be that he was temporarily not in control of his actions at the time. That is the only explanation why a man of Mr. Prescott's stature would act in this matter and risk everything he has accomplished. I am certain, ladies and gentlemen, that when you examine all the facts, you will be in agreement with me and return with a decision of not guilty by reason of insanity. Thank you for your time and rapt attention to this matter." Smiling in satisfaction of his performance, Sinclair took his seat, looking over at his colleague in a silent challenge.

Justin silently jiggled his hands on his knees; he was teeming with nervous energy now that the trial was coming to it s conclusion. He was anxious to see what Greg would say in his closing arguments. _Please help him to say the right thing,_ he prayed. _We won't get another chance._ As h e looked over at his partner, Brian reached to take his hand, his face echoing the same concern as well as hope.

"Mr. Matthews? Are you ready for your closing arguments?" Mason inquired.

"Yes, Your Honor," Greg answered confidently. Standing up, he walked toward the jury, stopping to face them, his hands behind his back as if in deep thought. After a few seconds, he began his plea. "Ladies and Gentlemen, my esteemed colleague would have you believe that a man of the defendant's prestige in the community would have no need to pursue an unwilling partner in his personal life . That any abnormal behavior on his client's part could only be attributed to a temporary break with reality. That there is NO way his client could be responsible for this horrifying behavior, nor would there be any NEED.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, that is a very convenient story , don't you think? What Mr. Sinclair fails to account for is something very simple that he has overlooked: human emotion. Yes, Mr. Prescott is a very powerful, influential man who is certainly very attractive . There's no argument with that at all. But in life it doesn't matter whether you are a homeless beggar or a multi-millionaire if you become obsessed with another person and want that person at all costs. That is precisely what happened here, ladies and gentlemen. OBSESSION, pure and simple.

Let me lay out all the facts for you that my esteemed colleague has seen fit to gloss over: His client paid $50,000 for a painting of Mr. Taylor's with the stipulation that he have dinner with him. My client, eager to obtain such an astronomical amount for a very worthwhile charity, agreed to the unusual condition and followed through on his commitment. And yes, Mr. Taylor has readily admitted that he was impressed and flattered by Mr. Prescott 's attention initially. But the defendant would NOT be deterred in his quest to win my client's affections, even when Mr. Taylor told him unequivocally he was NOT interested after the second date. Instead of bowing out gracefully, however, this man not only tried to restrain my client from leaving his private jet, but continued to pursue him over a year later with unwanted gifts and very personal, intimate notes.

He also arranged for a friend to divert Mr. Taylor's partner to Chicago f or several days while he continued to work on another type of subterfuge to get Mr. Taylor to fly to Lancaster on a pretense of obtain ing a commission for his work. Mr. Prescott also hire d a private detective to take photos of Mr. Taylor at a gallery showing, and has admitted to a long-standing business relationship with the detective, despite his protestations that he had nothing to do with Mr. Kingsley pretending to me a business associate of Mr. Kinney's when he cancelled the security detail.

Then he arranged to be at the restaurant in Lancaster to have a private lunch with Mr. Taylor, where he just HAPPENED to have his yacht conveniently moored nearby during the time my client was drugged and fell unconscious. But he now claims he remembers nothing of the most critical events that occurred? That he just HAPPENS to have developed temporary insanity and amnesia during the most horrifying time of Mr. Taylor and his partner's lives? And did the GHB just HAPPEN to appear in Mr. Taylor's drink by magic? Really, ladies and gentlemen. What I suggest to you, instead, is a much more insidious scenario: that despite Mr. Prescott's intelligence and business acumen, and his ability to attract a hoard of admirers, he simply fell prey to a very basic human emotion: infatuation . He used his power and influence to relentlessly pursue a man he had become totally captivated and fascinated with, and he was determined that no thing would stand in his way of his obsession . That he would do whatever it took, whatever MONEY and lies it took, to accomplish his goal, even if it cost my client his life. That may not have been his intention, but no matter. The end result would have been the same, if not for the quick intervention of Mr. Taylor's partner."

Pacing back and for th now in front of the jury, Greg forcefully wrapped up his arguments by stating, "So, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am asking you to sound a loud and clear message to the defendant. A m essage that you do NOT believe this fairy tale he and his attorney have concocted of temporary insanity and will instead do the right thing by delivering a guilty verdict on all charges. Thank you."

Matthews couldn't help glancing over at Prescott as he walked back to his chair to sit down; he wasn't surprised to still see the same smug, conceited look on the man's face, even now. _Well, let's see how smug you look after the jury returns with their verdict._

Justin and Brian he ld their breath as the judge instructed the jury on proper deliberation procedures, before his raised his gavel to announce, "This trial is in recess until the verdict is reached." As the jury was escorted to the deliberation room, the spectators milled around the room, each group expressing their opinion as to what the outcome would be.

Looking over at his partner, who had remained absolutely silent during the closing arguments, Brian asked softly, "Justin? What are you thinking, Sunshine?"

Justin raised his hands to pull them away from his face, his elbows propped on his knees. As his eyes turned toward the man he loved, he replied, "I don't really know WHAT I'm feeling. Apprehension, worry, maybe a little hope that this could almost be over? I feel like our lives have been in limbo since Prescott came back . And I don't feel like we can start living again until he's OUT of our lives – for good." Sighing, he added, "I just want all of this to be over with, Brian."

"I know. And it WILL be, Justin," he said determinedly. "I think Greg did a good job in his closing arguments," he pointed out hopefully.

"Yeah, he did. But Sinclair was pretty persuasive, too, you know." Standing up to stretch some of his tired muscles, the blond extended a hand to his partner. "I am SO tired – tired physically and tired mentally of being in this courtroom, day in and day out. Let's get OUT of here, Brian. I can't stand just waiting around, hoping the jury will come back soon. I can't handle that – I have to get out of here," he repeated.

Brian reached to grasp the slender hand. "I'm all yours, Sunshine," he assured the other man, placing his hand around the other's waist. "Let's go home and _work out_ some of our stress together. I'm sure Greg will call the minute they've reached a verdict."

Smiling as he placed his head momentarily on Brian's chest, Brian cradled his own head on top of Justin's for a few se conds, before the two walked hand in hand out the side door of the courtroom.


	28. Chapter 28: The Verdict

Justin laid his head on Brian's lap as the brunet slowly caressed the blond's soft hair. "I always DID like playing with your hair, you know," he whispered soothingly.

His partner smiled, looking up at him. "I know," Justin said simply. "Why do you think I grew it out again? You're not the ONLY one that enjoys it." Reaching up, he stroked the back of his hand against the other's face, producing a tender smile from Brian in return.

Justin sighed. "Relax, Sunshine," his partner admonished him gently. "Everything's going to work out, you'll see."

"You don't know how fucking much I want to believe that, Brian," he murmured. Restless, he started to sit up, but was gently pushed back down. "Hey, did I say you could get up?" his partner growled teasingly. "What happened to _working out our stress together?"_ he reminded him.

Nevertheless, Justin persisted as Brian reluctantly let him up to sit next to him on the couch; he still couldn't resist, however, in placing his arm automatically around the blond's shoulders, as his partner curled his head into the brunet's chest. "I know," Justin said at last. "I just can't get my nerves straightened out. I am SO anxious to get this over with. What is taking that jury so LONG?" he cried.

"Shh," Brian whispered, kissing the top of the blond's head. "It's only been a few hours. There's a lot of information for them to sort through. I want an answer as badly as you do, but you don't want to rush them through it. Let them think it through. When they do, they can't help but come back with the only answer they can – that the son of a bitch is a conniving, deceitful and arrogant prick who deserves to rot in jail for the rest of his natural life!" his exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch and his arm protectively squeezing around his partner's shoulder firmly.

"Justin?" Brian whispered softly, tentatively after a few moments of thought. As his partner looked up at him questioningly, Brian continued, "What do you say that when this is all over with, you and I go away for a little while? Just the two of us?"

Justin straightened up in his place on the couch to get a better look at the man he loved. "Really? Do you mean it?" he asked hopefully.

Brian smiled. "Of course, I mean it, you twat!" The smile he received in return was worth just asking the question, Brian decided, because he hadn't seen that type of smile in a LONG time.

"Where?" Justin asked, curious now.

"Wherever you want to go, Sunshine. You pick the place," Brian decided instantly. "As long as we're together, I don't CARE where it is. Although – warmer would be nice right now. It's still kind of chilly in the Pitts right now."

"Well, I don't really care either, Brian. I'm happy as long as you're with me." Justin was quiet for a few seconds before commenting, "You know, we've never really gone anywhere together just for a vacation. It seems like whenever we try, something always gets in the way. Do you think we could actually pull it off THIS time?"

"I'll make SURE we pull it off this time, Sunshine," Brian assured him. "You just give some thought as to where you want to go, and as soon as all this is over, we'll be on our way, okay?" He looked expectantly at Justin for his response, his eyebrows characteristically raised while he waited.

He didn't have to wait for very long. "Okay," Justin agreed after a short pause, eyes shining and a small smile again on his lips as he reached up to place a tender kiss on his partner's mouth.

"Mmmm," Brian murmured. "I KNEW you could think of a good way to work out our stress," he whispered against the blond's lips as he softly chuckled. Brian was just about to pull his partner down for a more thorough workout on the couch when the sound of his nearby cell phone startled both of them from their pleasurable pursuit.

Justin looked at Brian with wide eyes as the brunet answered. "Yeah," Brian greeted the caller. Justin looked at him anxiously as he overheard part of the conversation. "Okay, we'll be there," Brian answered after a few seconds before he flipped the phone shut.

Turning to his partner, Brian let out a breath as he confirmed, "Yeah, that was Greg." There was a pregnant pause before he nodded and answered Justin's unspoken question. "The jury's reached a verdict."

* * *

Greg was waiting for the two of them just outside the side door of the courtroom. Nodding to them as they hurried up to him, he anticipated their question. "Before you ask me, no, I can't tell you if this means the verdict is a good one or a bad one. I've had too many occasions where I thought the jury coming back relatively early meant they decided the guy was guilty, only to find out it was completely the opposite. I've learned never to try and second guess what the jury is thinking, I'm afraid. All we can do is hope for the best," he counseled them.

"Are they ready to announce the verdict right away?" Justin asked anxiously.

"Well, it should be relatively soon. The jury has definitely rendered a verdict in the case, but obviously we have to wait until all the parties are present. The Judge is on his way in and Sinclair just had Prescott picked up from the county jail to be escorted here. As soon as everyone is present, they'll call the trial back into session for the reading of the verdict," he instructed them. "Why don't you two go get a seat? I know you don't want to miss what happens after all this. I'll go ahead and take my place at the prosecutor's table." Turning to leave them, he added softly, "Good luck, Justin."

"You too, Greg," he responded shakily. Now that the trial was almost over and the jury FINALLY had a verdict, his stomach was tied up in knots, he didn't know more from dread or hope. It all depended upon who and what the jury had believed. _Were he and Brian finally going to get their lives back in order, or will they once again be thrown into chaos? Their fate was literally in hands of those twelve men and women inside that room._

"Hey," Brian whispered. "Stay with me. It's going to be okay," he once again reassured his partner, trying to place as much conviction in his voice as possible. He did not want the man he loved to know that inside he was just as nervous as HE was. Brian was determined to be the support that Justin so desperately needed right now, when everything was tied up into this one moment in time. "Let's go find a seat before word gets out to everyone and it gets too crowded," he suggested. Justin nodded as they opened the door to enter.

Brian had called Jennifer and the rest of their "family" from his phone while they were driving to the courthouse; he wasn't too surprised, therefore, to notice that they were already there, sitting together in the middle of the room. Deciding they could use the extra support, the two of them made their way toward their group of supporters.

"Hey, Baby," Em greeted the blond, giving him a friendly hug and a slight smile. "We're all here for you," he assured both of them, as the others nodded in agreement.

"Hi, Sweetheart, Brian," Jennifer greeted the two men, giving her son a hug and kiss before reaching over to embrace the older man as well. "Are you okay?" she asked Justin.

Justin let out a shaky breath and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "It all depends on what the jury decided," he answered truthfully. Brian placed his hands on Justin's shoulders from behind as Deb, also, reached over to place a kiss on both of her two surrogate "sons" to lend her support to them. "They'll do the right thing, Kiddo," she vowed firmly to Justin. "They HAVE to. It's time something comes out fucking RIGHT around here for a change," she growled.

"I hope you're right, Deb," Justin responded, feeling Brian's hands give his shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

The two men did not notice that Sinclair and Prescott had finally arrived until they suddenly heard the bailiff announce, "Hear ye, hear ye, this court is now in session, the Honorable Judge George Mason now presiding! Everyone please stand," the group was instructed. Justin and Brian turned, for the first time observing that both attorneys were standing at their respective tables, Prescott once again at his attorney's side as the judge entered the courtroom.

As everyone was told to be seated, the crowd became quiet as the jury slowly was ushered into the juror's box. Despite the intense scrutiny being placed on each jury member, try as he might, Justin couldn't tell what type of decision the jury had made; each man and woman seemed to keep their eyes averted from both attorneys.

As the jury was finally seated, the judge turned toward them before inquiring, "Has the jury reached a verdict?"

A middle-aged man who had been designated previously as the foreman of the jury rose briefly to confirm, "We have, Your Honor," as he placed a piece of white paper into the bailiff's outstretched hand.

The bailiff in turn handed the official document to the judge, who briefly studied it to make sure everything was in order. Nodding in satisfaction that it was, he intoned, "I would caution everyone in the courtroom that I will NOT tolerate any outbursts during the announcement of the decision," he sternly admonished all the spectators. "Will the defendant please rise while the clerk reads the verdict?"

Justin held his breath and licked his lips nervously while Prescott and his attorney rose to stand together; a hush fell across the room. Just before the clerk began to speak, Brian reached over to grab Justin's hand, who returned the gesture in a near-death grip.

After what seemed like forever, the clerk finally began to speak: "In the matter of count one of the indictment, wiretapping, we the jury find the defendant, Lane Prescott, not guilty," she announced.

A groan of disbelief escaped Justin's throat and he clamped his other hand over his mouth as he heard the not guilty verdict and watched as Lane smiled smugly at his attorney. _I think I'm going to be sick._ What he was dreading appeared to be happening before his very eyes.

Brian's eyes never left his partner, and his hand remained firmly in the other's grip as the clerk read the next verdict: "In the matter of count two of the indictment, fraud, we the jury find the defendant, Lane Prescott, not guilty."

Justin shut his eyes in horror. _This can't be happening._ The tears threatened to fall from his eyes as he sat stunned at the jury's decision. As he finally opened them, he watched as Lane again smiled triumphantly at Sinclair.

"Don't give up yet," Brian encouraged his partner, as the clerk prepared to announce the next decision.

"In the matter of count three of the indictment, assault with intent of bodily harm, we the jury find the defendant, Lane Prescott, guilty."

Justin's head shot up as the last decision was announced; did she just say _guilty? _He wondered briefly if he heard her correctly, but knew he had when he saw Lane's mouth fall open and his sudden crestfallen, shocked face in opposition to the deliriously elated face of his partner.

"Yes!" was all Debbie whispered, as she grasped Jennifer's hand in relief and hugged her friend.

The clerk then began to read the fourth and final verdict: "In the matter of count four of the indictment, kidnapping, we the jury find the defendant, Lane Prescott, guilty."

Despite the judge's earlier warning, at the announcement of the last and most critical decision, the room erupted into a collective sound of excitement as well as shock; several spectators rushed out of the room, no doubt intent on delivering the news of the verdicts to their co-workers in the press immediately.

Justin's tears were now flowing freely, but this time from utter relief that the man who had tormented him for the past several months would not be leaving his cell for a long, long time. His shoulders slumped in exhaustion as he looked over at Brian, whose weary but relieved face echoed his own. The brunet smiled, reaching over to gently wipe the tears from the blond's face and bestowing a gentle kiss on his lips. "Looks like Prescott better get used to orange and white stripes from now on, Sunshine," he murmured softly, happiness and vindication evident on his handsome face as he nudged the blond's nose with his own and kissed him once again, this time for a longer period.

As both men finally broke apart, they noticed Prescott's previous look of triumph had been quickly replaced by disbelief; disbelief that all his money and prestige couldn't buy him what he would need most of all – his freedom. As Sinclair assured the man that he would file an appeal, it did nothing to alleviate the dread that Prescott felt, now that he knew he would not be walking out of the courtroom a free man. Shaking his head, still stunned, he finally slumped back down into his seat while the judge tried in vain to get the courtroom back into some semblance of order.

"Order! Order!" he cried authoritatively, furiously rapping his gavel several times before the crowd finally quieted down. "May I remind everyone here that this courtroom is STILL in session? Mr. Sinclair?" he addressed the attorney who was indicating he had a question.

"Yes, Your Honor. I would like the jury to be individually polled as to their verdict on counts three and four," Sinclair requested.

"As you wish, Mr. Sinclair." Turning toward the jury, the judge individually addressed each juror, asking each person if the announced verdict was their true and actual verdict. Each man and woman in turn answered "guilty," verifying the verdict was rendered appropriately and erasing yet another avenue Prescott might have had to escape his fate.

"Very well, Mr. Sinclair. Your client will be notified shortly as to the date and time for the sentencing phase of the trial," Judge Mason advised the attorney. Turning to the jury, he added, "I want to thank each member of the jury for their perseverance and diligence during this long and arduous process. It will be your decision as to whether or not you wish to speak with the media. Your obligation is now over and you are dismissed."

As the jury shuffled out for the last time, the bailiff announced, "This trial is now in recess," and the judge exited the courtroom. As most of the spectators slowly walked out as well, Justin couldn't help glancing up one last time at his tormentor, formerly an elegant and seemingly considerate man now reduced to a devious and broken individual delegated to spend quite possibly the rest of his life in prison for his inability to stop what became an unstoppable obsession for him. If it hadn't been for everything he had gone through, Justin could have almost felt pity for the man. But he could never forgive him for the torment he had put him through. And he also knew he would have never gotten through the entire ordeal with the man who now stood closely beside him, and had stood steadfastly there through thick and thin over the last several months. Overwhelmed with emotion, Justin suddenly reached over and almost violently embraced his partner, the slender arms wrapping themselves tightly around the taller man's back. He sniffled slightly as Brian pulled away from him just a little so he could look him in the eyes. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked him gently, concerned at the unreadable expression in the blue eyes staring back.

The brunet was heartened to see the tender smile that appeared on his lover's face as he nodded his head and confirmed in an emotion-choked voice, "I haven't felt this good in a long time. And I've never been more in love with you than I am right now."

"Ditto," Brian replied simply. "Let's go home, Sunshine," he said, smiling. "We've got a trip to plan," he reminded him.

Politely excusing themselves after allowing a few minutes of congratulatory hugs and kisses from their band of supporters, the two noticed with satisfaction that Prescott had been led away in handcuffs before they walked arm in arm out the side door. This time, though, they knew they didn't need to look back.

_TBC in the epilogue_


	29. Chapter 29: Wrapping Up Loose Ends

_Two weeks post-trial_

"So, did you decide where I'm whisking you away to?" Brian asked his partner, who was sitting cross-legged on the loft floor, vacation pamphlets scattered everywhere. He had to smile at the mess currently surrounding the bare-chested blond, who was biting his lip in concentration. "Although, _whisk_ might not be quite the word I'm looking for here," he decided. "At least I won't have to worry about you not picking someplace warm, because by the time you get through looking over all those travel brochures, it will probably be August anyway," he grumbled good-naturedly, receiving a mature stuck-out tongue from his partner in response.

Kneeling down behind Justin, he wrapped his hands around the other man's neck, resting his chin on the blond's shoulder as he peered at what his partner kept studying in his hands. "Mykonos? Is that where you want me to have my way with your tight little ass?" Brian whispered in his ear seductively, his tongue poking out to slowly lick and tenderly bite around the blond's earlobe as he received an appreciative shiver in response. He tantalizingly caressed his partner's pale chest in gentle circles, waiting for his response.

"You know," Justin finally said, a little breathlessly. "You're _terrible_ for a guy's concentration." Turning his head to witness the tongue-in-cheek smile the brunet suddenly sported, he couldn't help pulling the other man's head down for a solid kiss to wipe that smug, pertinent little smile off his handsome face.

Chuckling and now out of breath himself, Brian softly reminded him several seconds later, "You still didn't answer my question, Sunshine," as he turned the other man toward him to pull both of them up to stand face to face. Keeping both of his hands around the other's waist, he flattened Justin against him, pulling back just enough to look at the sapphire eyes that were positively twinkling. _You've no idea how long I've waited to see that look back in your eyes_, he couldn't help thinking.

Justin smiled before confirming, "Yeah, I think this is the one." Reading off the brochure still grasped in his hand, he read, "superb beaches, white-washed steps and houses, state of the art bars and discos;" he noticed Brian's eyes light up at the mention of the last part. He excitedly continued reading the narrative, "Jeep safaris, daily excursions to the archaeological site Delos, scuba diving….."

"Okay, okay, Sunshine, you've convinced me," Brian replied, not being able to keep from swooping down to briefly steal another kiss from the full lips he knew so well. "But I told you before – I don't care WHERE we go as long as my sexy little twat is with me," he teased, earning a swat from his partner. "I do have one small request, though."

Receiving a puzzled expression from the blond, he released his grasp on the other man and reached into his pocket to pull out an object that he clenched in his hand. Shaking his head slightly and frowning slightly, Justin asked, "What is it?"

He noticed Brian inexplicably seemed almost shy as the brunet explained, "Instead of calling our little trip to Greece a vacation, I'd prefer to call it… a _honeymoon_." He then opened his palm slowly to reveal two platinum and gold wedding bands. "That is, if you don't mind a small stopover in Vermont on the way over." He fidgeted a little awkwardly as he waited for his partner's reply.

Justin was stunned as his mouth hung open; this was the last thing he expected. He knew he and Brian had grown even closer during the ordeal with Prescott, and then the subsequent trial, and he knew they loved each other deeply. But he never in his wildest dreams thought his partner would want to commit to him in such an overt way. He couldn't help sounding a little skeptical as he asked, "Are you sure this is what you want, Brian? I know you love me. We're partners and we live in this wonderful loft," he smiled reassuringly. "That's enough for me," he assured them.

"No, it's not, Sunshine," he countered gently. "And guess what? You want to know something even MORE amazing – it's not enough for ME, either." At Justin's look of surprise, he continued, "I mean it. In case you haven't noticed, Mr. Taylor, I haven't been to Liberty Avenue for quite some time now," he reminded the blond. "Some sexy, creative little vixen with a bubble butt that won't quit has been keeping me quite busy lately, thank you." His intense stare at Justin caused the blond to blush slightly; even now after all this time his partner could make his face flush with the slightest look and the husky sound of his voice. "So what's it going to be, Mr. Taylor? A "fuck you senseless" vacation or a "fuck you senseless" honeymoon?" The older man's eyebrows rose as he looked at the other man expectantly and just a little anxiously. _Okay, Sunshine, I'm hanging out on a fucking limb here – how about an answer!?_

As he realized his partner was deadly serious, Justin's "allergies" finally kicked in as he looked up with eyes awash with unshed tears of happiness and love for this man who had stood by him all this time. He wiped the tears away from his eyes as he answered, "I think a "fuck you senseless" honeymoon sounds just about perfect." As Brian smiled and reached for his hand to place the ring on the slender finger, Justin grasped the brunet's wrist to stop him. "If it's okay with you, I'd prefer to not put it on until the ceremony," he answered his partner's unspoken question shyly. Smiling in agreement, Brian placed the two rings gently back in his pocket. "Sentimental little twat," he whispered before leaning down to pull Justin into a passionate kiss to properly seal their agreement.

Continuing to hold his partner loosely in his arms, Brian pressed, "Are you sure you're okay with getting married without family and friends present? If it means that much to you, I would be willing to fly them in for the ceremony, you know," he assured his partner.

"I know, and I love you for being willing to do that, even at the expense of being pegged as a lesbionic fag," Justin teased. "But actually, I'd rather it just be a simple ceremony with just the two of us. Then we can celebrate with everyone when we get back. Okay?"

"Whatever you want is okay by me, Sunshine," he verified to his lover. "As long as I maintain the standard wedding night rights as outlined in the Q_ueer's Guide to Proper Fucking Handbook._

Justin rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he smiled. "I'm sure that can be arranged," he answered formally. "But I think we need to do a little dress rehearsal first for the wedding night, don't you?" he purred softly.

"You mean an _un-dressed rehearsal_, don't you?" the other man asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Yes, of course," Justin readily agreed. Echoing an earlier time in their relationship, he stated solemnly, "In that case, you may start….immediately." Brian didn't need any further encouragement, as he pounced on his partner, grabbing the other man by the back of his knees and throwing the rest of the slender body over his shoulders, as Justin shrieked in mock alarm before bursting out laughing at the other man's antics. They were just about to move into the loft's bedroom for a "full-blown" wedding night run-through when they heard Brian's cell phone ringing in his jacket pocket. Continuing to carry Justin long enough to gently place him down on the king-sized bed, Brian reached into his pocket to glance at the caller I.D.

Justin tensed slightly when he noticed the serious expression that abruptly appeared on the brunet's face as he advised, "It's Greg."

Justin sat up in the bed as Brian joined him before flipping the phone open. "Hi, Greg," he answered. "Yeah, Justin's with me – what's up?" he asked, somewhat anxiously, as Justin's face also revealed his tenseness. Brian automatically reached over to hold the blond's hand and caress it with his fingers in an attempt to calm him as he listened to the attorney.

Justin sighed in relief and relaxed somewhat when he saw Brian's face break out into a smile. "That's GREAT news, Greg," he responded, looking over at Justin to verify everything was all right. "Yeah, I'll tell him. That fucker's not the ONLY one going away – but I have no doubt OURS will be a lot more enjoyable than his stay will be," he added, laughing derisively. In answer to Greg's question, he explained, "You might stay Justin and I are going on a little celebratory vacation."

Brian spoke to the prosecuting attorney for a few more minutes before closing with, "Yeah, thanks for everything, Greg. You did a hell of a job; now Justin won't have to worry anymore. Yeah, I'll tell him – thanks again, bye."

Justin looked at him expectantly as Brian placed the phone down on the nearby nightstand. "Greg just got back from the sentencing," he verified. He and Brian had earlier decided they did not want to be present for this phase of the trial; Matthews had assured them of what the minimum guidelines for Prescott's crimes would be and after all the emotional turmoil the trial had created, Brian had persuaded Justin not to attend; the last thing he wanted for his partner was to endure any more emotional upheaval at the hands of the man who had haunted the blond's nightmares for so long now.

He smiled at Justin. "Our pit bull prosecutor asked for and received the maximum term for Prescott's conviction on the assault and kidnapping charges. AND he got the judge to agree to run them consecutively. Meaning…..by the time Prescott finishes his 20-year jail term for the assault AND the 35-year-sentence for the kidnapping charges, his dick will be too old and wrinkled to get it up for even such a tight ass as yours, Sunshine."

Justin's lips broke out into one of his most radiant smiles as he rapidly rained butterfly kisses all over his partner's face. "It's finally over, baby," Brian verified as he returned the kisses fervently. "Now we can move on to more _pleasant_ tasks. Speaking of which," he struggled to talk as his partner aggressively moved to take off all of his partner's clothing, kissing each delicious inch of the toned flesh as it was exposed and dramatically undermining the brunet's ability to talk, "I believe we were about to conduct an _un-dressed_ rehearsal of our soon-to-be wedding night?"

Justin stopped only briefly to answer, "What do you think I'm DOING?" before proceeding to rapidly divest the man he loved of the rest of his clothing. "I think I'm a slow learner, though – we're definitely going to have to work long, hard hours, deep into the night," he advised seriously, eliciting a chuckle from his partner.

"We'd better get started right away, then," he laughed as he tickled the blond mercilessly.

"Stop it, you asshole!" Justin giggled exuberantly.

Brian finally acquiesced after several seconds of torture with his wonderfully skilled hands. Turning serious now, he told his partner, "It's been a long time since I've seen you this happy."

Justin responded tenderly, "I AM happy. And I love you, Brian."

"I love you, too, you twat. Now shut up – I'm busy here," he answered in a mock growl as he lovingly began to demonstrate to his partner the first lesson from his edition of the Q_ueer's Guide to Proper Fucking Handbook. _

"Yes, Mr. Kinney – with pleasure."

* * *

_**A/N: TBC? Anyone want a honeymoon/wedding or should I end it here? Thanks for all your feedback!**_


	30. Chapter 30: What to Wear or Not to Wear

**_A/N: Okay, you twisted my arm! Here's the next part of the story that begins their eventual wedding ceremony and honeymoon - hope I do them justice! Thanks to everyone who has been reading my "fairy tale' and especially those who have taken the time to encourage me - I greatly appreciate it. Hope you enjoy! Keep the feedback coming - I LOVE it!_**

* * *

"Justin? Are you here?" Brian carefully draped his coat on the back of the recliner before searching for his partner in the loft.

"Down in the studio," he heard in response. Walking down the spiral staircase, he observed his partner in a typical position: peering intently, paintbrush in hand, at a work-in-progress – an abstract painting of dramatic color and texture. Unlike recent works, however, even an untrained eye could tell this one was much more vibrant and uplifting in nature, as opposed to the somber and stark pieces his fiancé had worked on during the ordeal with Prescott. Besides, the vibrant smile he received as his partner looked over at him would have been answer enough anyway.

Walking over to steal a sound kiss from the blond, he smiled in return and scrutinized his partner's latest effort. "Very passionate," Brian proclaimed, "Just like its creator." He wrapped his arms around Justin's torso and nuzzled his neck. "But if you can put your paintbrush down for a second, I've got some travel information for you," he whispered, breathing in his partner's ear. He received a sigh of pleasure in response before the other man promptly set his brush down on the nearby palette and turned around in his arms, placing his hands to circle the brunet's neck.

Eyes twinkling with excitement, he demanded, "Tell me now," as he lightly fidgeted on the balls of his feet, "Before I have to resort to methods of torture to get you to talk." When the brunet just smiled and didn't offer any immediate information, his partner moved to place his slender hands at the other's waist with the intention of tickling the news out of him.

"Uh, uh, uh, no, you don't, Sunshine!" Brian declared, swiftly capturing the other man's hands in his own. "Is that any way to treat your future husband?" He tried to sound stern as he asked his question, but the curled-under lips and sparkle in the hazel eyes gave him away instantly; he never could say no to this man, anyway, and the little twat knew it.

"Bri-an." The blond, changing his battle tactics, decided to resort to good old whining with a little bit of the puppy-dog look in an attempt to be successful. "Come ON! You can't say that and just drop it NOW! Spill!" he insisted, twisting in the other man's firm grip in a futile effort to dislodge himself.

Laughing now, Brian taunted, "Is that the best you can do, little boy?"

"Actually, no," Justin answered calmly. A little TOO calmly, Brian thought and with good reason, because suddenly he felt a kick from the other man that caused the brunet to lose his footing and sprawl ungracefully onto the floor.

As Justin lay on top of his partner, Brian still managed a firm hold on the younger man's waist as he murmured sarcastically, smirking, "Even after all this time, you still know how to knock me off my feet, Sunshine."

"I know," Justin replied solemnly, just before bursting out laughing. Brian couldn't help joining him, chuckling as he abruptly pulled the blond down for a passionate kiss. "You're SO easy," he teased the other man.

"And you LOVE it," Justin agreed readily, smiling.

"Yes, I do," Brian easily agreed before turning more serious, his hazel eyes looking at the other man tenderly as he reached to try and control an errant lock of the soft, blond hair. "And I LOVE you."

Kissing his fiancé once more, he finally loosened his hold and allowed Justin to sit up as he sat alongside him. "Now where were we, before you tried to ravage me?" Brian asked innocently.

"BRIAN! I'm about to EXPLODE here! Tell me, you asshole!"

"Okay, Sunshine," Brian laughed, "since you asked so NICELY." As he stood up, he reached a hand out to his partner. "Come upstairs, and I'll SHOW you."

"Seems I've heard that line BEFORE," Justin joked, receiving a quick swat on his ass in response. "Ouch!"

"That's for being so impertinent," Brian chastised him. Pulling the other man towards the stairs, he asked, "Do you want to see where we're going or not?"

"Are you KIDDING?!" Justin squealed, now jogging full steam ahead up the spiral staircase in front of his partner. As he reached the upstairs landing, he looked down to see his partner walking rather nonchalantly up the steps. "Will you fucking HURRY UP!?" he screamed, as Brian simply laughed at him.

"Ah, youth, so impatient, so eager, so IRRITATING……but so adorable," he whispered as he stood next to his now huffy partner who was standing with his arms crossed. Placing a chaste kiss on the blond's cheek, he waggled his long index finger at him, motioning for the other man to follow.

Eagerly tagging along behind him, he stood on his tiptoes to look over the brunet's shoulder as Brian reached into his jacket pocket on the recliner and pulled out two envelopes. "Signed, sealed, and delivered, Sunshine," he announced, as he placed one of the envelopes in the slender hand.

Justin hurriedly opened up the envelope to peer at the contents. Letting out a squeal of joy, he cried, "We're leaving tomorrow!? Shit!" Now totally ignoring the other man, he began to rapidly pace and forth as his brain wheels went into overdrive. "What am I going to wear? We're going to Vermont, where it's cold, but then we're going to Greece, where it's WARM! How am I going to pack? How can I be ready before tomorrow morning!? What about your work? What about MY work? Should I leave someone a key to the studio in case they need to show a painting when I'm gone? We'll need to give them the security code, too. Fuck! Well, don't just stand there – we've got a LOT to do!" For a second, Justin looked at the other man, hands on hips, before he finally threw up his hands and rushed into their bedroom to search for their luggage.

Brian's lips curled under in amusement. _What have I gotten myself INTO to? _Watching the blond whirlwind bustling around the loft, he felt an emotion he wasn't quite sure how to identify. Love? Certainly. Relief that his partner and the man he loved was finally rid of the dark cloud that had hung over him for the last 18 months? No doubt. But there was something more….._happiness. Happiness and contentment, _he finally decided. Two emotions he wasn't really sure he was capable of feeling until his son was born and Justin came into his life and refused to leave – a fact that he would forever be eternally grateful for. Which was good, because the blond devil running around their loft at the moment would take a lifetime to tame, he thought ruefully, as he followed the other man into their bedroom to see what he was doing.

Clothes were splayed out all over the bed now, and pieces of luggage were strewn on the floor. Laughing to himself, Brian commented, "Sunshine, we're going to be gone for three WEEKS, not three YEARS. We can buy some other clothes once we get to Greece," he stated reasonably.

"But, Brian, what are we going to wear to Vermont? It's still fucking COLD there, but I hate to have to take a damn coat that we won't need once we get to Mykonos."

"So just take a lighter jacket. We won't really be in Vermont very long – just overnight, and after all, after we get married, I don't really think we'll be doing much in the way of _outdoor activities,_ except maybe relaxing in the hot tub on the balcony outside our suite. You'll be much too occupied by the _indoor workouts," _he sexily drawled.

Justin's ears perked up and his eyes twinkled. "Hot tub? Outside our suite?" His mouth got wide as he smiled radiantly. "Really? Do we get room service, too?"

Brian smiled indulgently. "Only YOU would be worried about food. Yes to both, Sunshine. Really. Now pack a few DECENT clothes for Greece and your sketch pad, but leave a lot of empty space for some NEW clothes and some of those horrible tourist trap trinkets you always seem to be fascinated with," he added, trying to sound gruff but failing miserably. The little twat always had that effect on him.

"Okay," Justin agreed, as he started to go through their closet to find just the right apparel to place in his suitcase. Noticing that Brian hadn't moved from his spot near the entryway, he remarked, "I know how much you enjoy walking around without any clothes on, but can't you at least start packing something so we don't get thrown out of the airport before we even leave the Pitts?"

"Mmmm…I'm having too much fun watching YOU agonize over what to take," he teased. "And, furthermore, I don't think I'll need much in the way of clothes. I read where Mykonos has a nude gay beach on the island. So I should be right in style, Sunshine," he drawled, ducking as a pillow went whizzing by his head. "Hey!" he growled. "Not near the head!"

"Well, you may fit right in on Mykonos, and in your normal unclothed state you may be able to just whizz by the security checkpoint at the airport, but your sexy little derrière may get just a little frostbitten in Vermont, and that would be a travesty before it gets properly warmed up," he chided. "So get your ass over here and HELP ME PACK!"

Laughing, Brian acquiesced. "Okay, Sunshine, I'll do it for you. Got to protect one of my best ass-ets, I suppose. Although yours comes in a close second," he admitted teasingly as he neared the bed, receiving the second pillow smack in his stomach this time. "Oomph!"

"Seriously, though, Brian, what do we tell everybody about where we're going? I didn't know we were leaving TOMORROW. I mean, I'm sure they can understand us wanting to get away after everything we've been through with the trial and all, but I haven't told anyone we're leaving so soon. I've got to at least tell my mom and Daphne. And you know how Michael will be if you don't let HIM know. He'll think you've fucking deserted him or something."

"Now, Sunshine, you don't give me enough credit. I didn't get to be such an advertising genius by not planning ahead," he advising, receiving a rolling of the eyes in return. "I've already told both Mother Taylor AND Mother Michael that we are leaving on a little vacation starting tomorrow, and they've agreed to watch over things while we're gone. Theodore's going to mind Kinnetik, with a little help from Cynthia, and call me on my cell ONLY if it's an emergency. Of course, with Theodore, running out of bottled water could be an emergency. But that's what the MUTE button on my phone is for," he announced, smiling as if he had just invented the wheel again.

"Well, aren't you just the cleverest little husband-to-be?" Justin pronounced, dropping his task momentarily to wrap his arms around the other man's waist. "I think you deserve a little reward, don't you?"

"You're DAMN right I do…..only you have so many fucking clothes all over the bed, there's no ROOM for any proper reward," he growled.

Releasing his hold on the brunet, Justin abruptly turned and swept all his clothes off the bed in one grand movement. "NOW there's room," he announced, smiling broadly as he began to tug Brian toward the bed.

Just before they both stumbled onto the mattress, Brian grumbled, "Good thing those were all YOUR clothes and not MINE," before Justin laughed and pulled him down for a passionate kiss.


	31. Chapter 31: Gone for Good?

**_A/N: There's a little twist in this chapter - hope you don't kill me - LOL! I got this idea and had to run with it....have to have just a little drama or the story would be a little too boring, wouldn't it? Thanks as always for the continuing feedback - you guys are what keep me going! _**

* * *

"Justin! In case you didn't hear that fucking horn that's been blowing for the last couple of minutes, that's our cab out there! What are you DOING?" Brian yelled up at his partner as he stood by the front door, suitcase by his feet.

He heard a loud muffled thump, along with a "Shit!" and an "Ow" before Justin came into view at the top of the steps. "I can't find my allergy medicine. You know I can't leave WITHOUT it! And I just stubbed my fucking toe on that atrocious door stop you insisted on bringing here!"

"That _doorstop,_ as you so colloquially put it, is my Tim Rose sculpture, I'll have you know. I would have thought an _artiste_ such as you would have already figured that out. Just because you insist on using it as a doorstop to keep your studio door open isn't MY fault," he growled. "Now find your fucking medicine and get your tight little ass down here so we can get married, damn it!"

Sticking out his tongue in response, he yelled, "All RIGHT! Keep your pants on….Oh, I forgot, that's foreign to you, isn't it?" Getting a look of frustration and a scrunched-up face from the brunet, he shortly came back into view, holding up his pill bottle triumphantly. "Ta-da!" he proclaimed, shaking it for emphasis.

"Wonderful….now pick up your shit and let's go!" Brian demanded impatiently, hands on hips.

"Okay, okay," Justin answered, as he picked up his one medium-sized suitcase and half-carried, half-dragged it down the steps, a loud clacking sound reverberating throughout the open space as he trudged down the staircase to meet his fiancé, who sighed in a display of barely-controlled frustration.

As the horn from the cab once again sounded, Brian rolled his eyes and said, a little more calmly this time, "Are you ready to go now, Sunshine?"

"MORE than ready, Mr. Kinney," the blond answered formally, stopping briefly to let go of his suitcase and, reaching up on his tiptoes, bestow a short kiss on his partner's lips. "Too late to back out now, buster."

"Well, then, it's a good thing you're young, blond, and got a great ass," Brian murmured, as he couldn't help reaching down to briefly squeeze the other's butt cheeks. "Although, maybe I can still find a hot little flight attendant on the way to Vermont."

"Take even one sideways glance at anyone else and I'll be trading seats with a passenger that's got false teeth, no hair, and weighs 400 lbs.," his partner warned.

"On second thought, you're looking more attractive by the second," Brian obediently responded.

Justin smiled. "That's more like it. Now get in gear! The cab's out there – what are you WAITING for?"

Rolling his eyes and curling his lips inward, he smacked Justin's ass before picking up his own suitcase and holding the door open for his partner to follow him. _It's going to be a LONG flight to Greece._

* * *

Justin and Brian settled comfortably in their seats, waiting for the plane to depart from the gate. Seated in the last row of the first-class section, it afforded them some sense of privacy, since they were separated from the rear coach section by a partition and the seats across from them were miraculously empty for this flight.

Now that they had survived their last-minute trip to the airport, and were finally settled into their seats for the first leg of their journey, the brunet couldn't help reaching over for his partner's hand, stroking it affectionately with his thumb. Justin smiled at him tenderly. "We're really doing this, aren't we?"

"Yeah, looks that way," Brian replied, smirking. "You must have caught me in a weak moment."

"Right. You don't fool me, Mr. Kinney. You don't do anything you don't WANT to do. That's what makes this so special," he added gently, smiling.

"Well, some guys will do anything for some great fucking," he replied solemnly, his twinkling eyes the only thing that betrayed his real thoughts. "So you better be prepared to put out, you little twat."

Justin laughed softly. "I'll do my best. IF you can keep UP with me, that is."

"Don't worry, I can keep it UP as long as YOU can," he assured him, grinning. "But we're not going to be UP in the air long enough to test that theory on the way to Vermont. Guess it will have to keep until we can test it out long distance on the way to Greece," he drawled seductively. Checking first to see if anyone was observing them, he quietly leaned over and placed a short kiss on the full lips. "Besides, I plan on keeping you quite occupied later tonight, after I make an honest man out of you."

Justin deadpanned, "How very _Seven Brides for Seven Brothers_ of you. A shotgun wedding – yee haw!" His attempt at comedy was rewarded by a quick jab to his side, before the flight attendant began to walk through the aisle to conduct the final pre-flight boarding as the jet's engines came to life.

"Tell me more about the place in Vermont," Justin urged his partner. Brian had only given him some perfunctory information the other day.

"Okay – if it will keep you QUIET for a few minutes," he teased, still holding onto the other hand lightly. Another mature sticking out of the blond's tongue was his partner's only response.

"At the risk of sounding like a pansy, it's called the _Whispering_ _Inn._ It's a small luxury suites hotel that was converted from an old schoolhouse. Our suite is on the top floor – wouldn't want to disturb the other more conservative guests with our boisterous rounds of entertainment tonight," he explained, getting an innocent-looking face from the blond – and has a large balcony with the hot tub. The website also mentioned it has a king-sized bed and a wood-burning fireplace to keep your tight little ass comfy-cozy before and after our other warm-up exercises."

"Aren't you considerate?" Justin murmured, smiling. Inexplicably a little shy, he asked, "When is our ceremony?"

"Right after dinner. I knew better than to marry you on an empty stomach," he teased, receiving a jab this time from the blond. "There's a small room right off the main lobby where you sign all the legal mumbo-jumbo and they hold informal wedding ceremonies. That IS what you wanted, right? Nothing fancy?" he asked, looking at Justin for an honest response. He knew the man he loved so well by now that he could pretty much tell what Justin was thinking at any time simply by the reaction on his face. He was relieved to see that the other man didn't hesitate this time.

"Yes," he verified, smiling tenderly at Brian. "YOU'RE what I want – I don't care where or how the ceremony is done….As long as when it's over, you and I are husband and superior husband."

"_SUPERIOR_ husband? That's a new one…. And I suppose that would be YOU?" he asked, amused.

Justin appeared affronted by the question. "Of course," he answered, as if that was the most stupid question ever asked. "Who ELSE would it be?" he smirked.

"Of course," Brian agreed, twisting his mouth in amusement. "What a ridiculous question."

"Well?" Justin asked.

Puzzled, Brian replied, "Well, what?"

"Tell me more," Justin encouraged him.

Brian smirked – _sentimental little twat._ "Okay," he said, deciding to humor him. "After the ceremony, you carry me up the steps like Rhett Butler," he whispered in the other man's ear, "and whisk me into the elevator for a short, but very intense, preliminary warm-up session to our official consummation as husband and _superior husband_," receiving a broad smile from his fiancé, "and then AFTER you carry me over the official threshold, I manage to at least take two steps into the suite before you can't stand it any longer and you tear at all my outrageously expensive clothing until you have me naked and helpless…" The brunet had to stop as he looked at the indignant expression on his partner's face that was priceless and, yes, absolutely adorable. "Are you saying that description isn't accurate?" he asked.

"That would be correct," his partner verified firmly. "Actually, you would only be able to take ONE step into the room before I ravage you."

"Oh…..I stand corrected. I take ONE step into the room before you tear off all my fuckingly expensive clothes and have your way with me."

"Much better," his partner agreed, nodding. "See, you're already practicing how to be the obedient, submissive partner in this marriage."

Justin heard a distinctive, derisive snort before Brian growled good-naturedly, "Yeah, wait until I get your married little ass back in our hotel suite and I'll SHOW you who's the submissive one."

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Both," he confirmed, before reaching over to playfully snatch another quick kiss from his "superior" husband-to-be, thinking, _maybe the little twat's right – he certainly is SUPERIOR for me. _"Now I suggest you get a little rest before we reach our destination and I wear your little ass OUT."

"Yes, my little advertising genius."

"And I don't care if you DO think you're superior – you are NOT going to start calling me some cutesy nicknames," the brunet warned.

"Of course not, Dumpling."

"Justin – I warned you."

"Ouch! That hurt, you asshole!"

Getting a dirty look from the older man diagonally across the aisle from them, Brian chuckled. "Already misbehaving. You will have to be punished when we get to our room, dear."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Oh, I intend to keep them. Now will you PLEASE shut the fuck up for a while?"

"Why?"

"Because you're wearing my BRAIN out! Why do you always have to have the last word?"

"No, I don't…….oh."

Brian smiled as the younger man placed his pillow on the brunet's shoulder and, laying his head there, finally closed his eyes. He saw the slightest hint of a satisfied smile on his partner's face when he couldn't resist reaching down and gently stroking the blond head briefly. As the plane lifted off into the sky, Brian followed his partner's lead and, leaning his head back, closed his eyes, their two hands clasped loosely together.

* * *

_Pittsburgh State Correctional Institutional – Greensburg, PA – Same Day_

The disheveled, dark-haired man, stubble clearly visible on his face, paced back and forth in the nondescript, cement chamber, nervously waiting for his visitor to arrive. As the minutes ticked by, his impatience grew. Noticing a thin man wearing glasses out of the corner of his eye, he turned to verify it was the visitor he had been waiting for.

"What TOOK you so fucking long!?" Prescott demanded, as soon as David Kingsley took a seat opposite him at the plain, metal table.

"YOU try going through all the hoops they require of you when you try to get into this place," the red-haired detective responded defensively. "It's worse than trying to break into Ft. Knox."

"That's funny – I didn't have that much trouble _getting in_," Prescott complained. "You ought to try seeing it from the OTHER side. I'm about to go fucking crazy in here."

"That's kind of ironic," Kingsley replied, "since you were trying to prove you were insane to KEEP from being sent here."

"Just shut up and listen to me!" Lane snarled. "You owe me big time for keeping your ass out of jail. If it hadn't been for me, you would have wound up here WITH me when you admitted your part in the wiretapping and fraud, instead of just having to pay a fine."

"You? Who put me up to it?" Kingsley countered. "If I hadn't agreed to plead guilty, YOU no doubt would have been convicted instead, and you would have had even MORE time added onto your sentence."

"Yeah, well, it was a small price to pay for all that extra money you got, now wasn't it?" Prescott noted. "So I figure you owe me, Kingsley," he repeated to the smaller man. "And I'm ready to collect. It would be worth it for me if I had to come clean if only to see your ass here in jail WITH me."

The man considered Prescott's warning for several seconds before his shoulders sagged a little in resignation. "So just what do you want from me?" he finally asked warily.

"Two things. I want Sinclair taken care of," he said flatly. "That imbecile is one of the main reasons I got convicted. If he had done his job properly, that jury never would have convicted me. He assured me my so-called _expert witness_ would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was not responsible for my actions, and you saw what a fucking terrific job he did for me. If I no longer have a life, that man doesn't deserve one, either," he explained, the hatred apparent on the haggard face.

"You're not saying what I THINK you're saying," the other man whispered fearfully.

"That's EXACTLY what I'm saying," Prescott growled. "And don't go giving me that high and mighty _innocent_ look, Kingsley. I know the type of circles you run around in. I'm sure you can find just the right _candidate_ for the job, can't you?" he pressed, as he glared at the other man, who shrunk back slightly from the intense look he was receiving.

Finally, Kingsley responded, "Maybe. For the _right incentive._"

"That won't be a problem," Prescott assured him. "I may be in prison, but I still have access to any funds you need to carry out your _assignment._ You will need to go through an intermediary, however, to get access to it."

"An _intermediary_?"

"Yes. You will need to get in touch with Aiden. He already knows what he needs to do once you contact him and let him know the details. He will provide you with half of the money up front to have our _friend _carry it out, and the other half once the deal is done. Understood?"

"Yeah. Okay, I guess. I'll take care of it." The man hesitated briefly, dreading what other "favor" Prescott would demand from him. "You said there were a _couple_ of things. What is the other favor?"

Prescott smiled at the thought of what he needed even more than getting that incompetent S.O.B. Sinclair out of the way.

"Whoever you find to take care of Sinclair, tell him that if he comes away clean, there's one more _party_ I need to attend to on a permanent basis. And I will pay him DOUBLE for that pleasure. That arrogant bastard Kinney. If I can't have Justin, then neither can HE. Understood?"

Kingsley swallowed the large lump in this throat. He was getting in much deeper this time, and he wasn't sure it was a position he wanted to be in. But what choice did he have now? He did not want to join Prescott in jail. He never should have gotten involved with Prescott in the first place, but it was too late to back out now. Taking a deep breath, he finally answered quietly, "All right. I'll get in touch with Aiden once I find the _participant_ and get my instructions from him."

Prescott smiled broadly. "I THOUGHT you'd see it my way, Kingsley," he told the other man, as the detective rose to leave. He patted the wiry man on the shoulder as he said in closing, "I always knew you were a smart man." Nodding briefly in parting, Kingsley walked determinedly toward the exit, waiting for the corrections officer to open the door.

Prescott sat back down at the table. _Enjoy your little tryst with my Angel while you can, Kinney. YOUR hell is just beginning._ Feeling better than he had in days, Prescott rose and walked back toward the exercise courtyard to work off some of his frustration before it was time to be placed back in his cell.


	32. Chapter 32: The Prosecutor's Deal

Greg Matthews rubbed his hands across his closed eyes; he had been at work now for the past 10 hours and still had to drag himself through a couple more before he could finally go home. His wife had been badgering him lately about his long work hours; feeling how exhausted he was at the moment, he made a note to take a well-deserved vacation by the end of the month to try and make it up to her.

Hearing someone knock on his door, he glanced up and observed two men: one of average height, with dark blond hair and a tailored suit, and the other, a red-haired, wiry man who someone looked familiar.

"Yes?" he asked the two who were standing in his doorway.

"Are you Mr. Matthews?" the more conservative-dressed of the two asked him.

"That's right. What can I do for you gentlemen?" He motioned for them to enter his office, and they moved to take the two seats in front of the policeman.

The one in the tailored suit spoke first. "My name is Bruce Settlemeyer. I'm an attorney," he explained, handing Greg a business card. He nodded toward the other man sitting to his left. "This is my client, David Kingsley."

Greg finally realized why the red-haired man looked familiar; he was the detective who had been associated with Prescott and had testified during the man's trial.

"I know who you are," Greg responded as he looked at Kingsley, not quite unable to keep the scorn out of his voice. He suspected this man had engaged in a lot more unsavory activity than he had admitted to, and he did not trust the man at all. "What can I do for you two?" he repeated.

The attorney looked toward the private detective, a silent prodding for him to speak. "Actually, that's why I'm here," Kingsley confirmed. "I have some information I think you would be interested in regarding Lane Prescott."

Matthews studied the man, who appeared fidgety and nervous about something. "What about him?" he pressed.

Kingsley looked over at his attorney, who then picked up the conversation, deciding they did not want to divulge too much until they knew it would be worthwhile. "It seems Prescott contacted my client regarding some _illegal_ activities he wishes him to pursue on his behalf."

"What _type_ of illegal activities?" Greg prodded, growing just a little tired of the cat and mouse game these men were playing. "You're going to have to be more specific than that."

The attorney pondered just how much to impart at the risk of revealing their intention today. He finally decided he would have to be at least somewhat specific in order for his client to get what he wanted.

"My client was contacted by Prescott in an attempt to locate someone who could take care of two problems he had: Wyatt Sinclair and Brian Kinney."

Matthews felt a sudden chill as his blood ran cold. "Are you saying what I THINK you're saying? Are you telling me that Prescott wanted to take out a hit contract on these two men?" He applied his best prosecutor's stare at the two men as he peered pointedly at them to make sure he understood them correctly.

Kingsley again glanced at his counselor, making sure it was all right to answer the question. Receiving an affirmative nod from the other man, Kingsley, responded simply, "Yes, that's correct."

Matthews continued to stare in disbelief at the two men. "Those are very serious allegations, gentlemen."

"Yes, they are," Settlemeyer agreed. "But my client was there in person when the request was made of him."

"He went to the prison to see Prescott?"

"Yes, he was asked to come there by Prescott for the express purpose of demanding my client find someone who could _take care of his problems_ for him," the attorney verified.

Greg narrowed his eyes. "So why are coming to me with this information? I'm sure you didn't just come here out of your sense of _duty_." The young prosecutor felt sure that Kingsley didn't have an altruistic bone in his body.

"You're very astute, Mr. Matthews," Settlemeyer responded professionally. "My client came to me for guidance on how to handle this situation. He admits that he initially pretended to go along with what Prescott wanted, but he decided to come and seek me out afterwards for advice. I'm sure he would be the first to admit that he perhaps doesn't always conduct his undercover work _by the book_, shall we say, but he's no killer, either. Nor is he a go-between to FIND one. However, he IS concerned about the possibility of some additional charges being assessed against him, so before he divulges anything further, he is interested in coming to a mutually beneficial arrangement between him and the prosecutor's office."

Matthews suspected as much. He had also long assumed that everything Kingsley had done during Prescott's relentless pursuit of Justin Taylor had been strictly at the direction of the other man. Perhaps this was what the other attorney was alluding to when he mentioned _additional charges_. If Matthews could nail Prescott on these more serious allegations, however, it would be well worth releasing this little fish from liability at the expense of nailing the BIG one.

"And just what would that _arrangement_ entail?" Matthews pressed.

"I'll be direct with you, Matthews," the other attorney stated. "My client is willing to admit to everything he has done previously at the direction of HIS client, Lane Prescott, as well as cooperate fully with you regarding this latest request he was given by him at the prison, provided he is promised immunity from any further prosecution."

"I assumed as much," he admitted. "AND I might be willing to make such a deal. But I just can't take your client's word for it, Counselor." Turning directly to the smaller man seated at his attorney's side, he asked, "Would you be willing to wear a wire or some other type of listening device to prove you are telling me the truth?"

"I don't know," Kingsley answered warily. Being a detective himself, he knew this would be one possibility; he was well aware the prosecutor would not agree to the deal without more proof than just a verbal accounting from him of what Prescott had said. "The man has already given me my instructions; I'm not how open he will be about repeating them without becoming suspicious. In fact, he was going to have the money disbursed through an intermediary, since he does not have direct access to his wealth anymore."

"An _intermediary_?" Greg's ears perked up at that word. That means there had to be at least one more accomplice involved in this sordid situation. "What KIND of intermediary?"

"Now, Counselor, you really wouldn't expect my client to reveal that information without some type of assurances first," Settlemeyer chided.

"Well, it seems you have already played your own hand to a certain extent. But I will assure you that if your client delivers on his end of the bargain, I WILL provide you with a written statement granting him immunity from further prosecution. So again, Mr. Kingsley, WHO is this intermediary?"

The wiry man hesitated, glancing over at his attorney, who considered the statement. He wasn't very fond of Matthews, having heard of his tenacious character from other colleagues, but he HAD heard at least the man was fair and followed through on his promises. He nodded encouragement to the detective to answer the question.

"He told me to seek out Aiden, who has control of all his money," the detective answered.

"_Aiden_? Is that an employee of his?" Matthew had never heard that name mentioned before.

"No, Aiden is Lane's brother. He was the comptroller of his sportswear conglomerate before Lane was sent to prison, and he now apparently has a power of attorney to control all of his money. I was told to meet with Aiden, who would provide me with half the money up front to give to the hit man, once I found a suitable one, and the other half once the job was done. That was for Sinclair. For Kinney, Lane told me he would pay DOUBLE over the first amount."

Matthews whistled softly. _Prescott's BROTHER?_ It was a scary thought there could be TWO evil lunatics running around from the same family tree. "I didn't know Prescott even had a brother," he admitted to the two men. "Interesting. Did Prescott tell you just how MUCH he was willing to pay for the _services rendered_?"

"No. Apparently he has already spoken to his brother and told HIM, though, because I was told to go see him about the details."

Greg pondered that for a few minutes. "Perhaps that is our solution, then. We will outfit you with a wire before you go to see Prescott's brother. With any luck, his own brother will implicate him in this hit man plot and we can nail BOTH of their asses to the wall. Two for the price of one – one's immunity, that is."

"So we have a deal?" Settlemeyer asked for clarification.

Greg smiled faintly. "Yes, gentlemen, I believe we do. Come back later today and I will have the papers drawn up. Say, about 3:00?"

Kingsley's shoulders sagged in relief; hopefully, he will be able to get out from under this huge mess as long as Prescott's brother cooperates. At this point, the detective just wanted to get the whole mess over with and be done from any further association with the Prescott name ever again.

"David?" the attorney asked his client, seeking confirmation. As the other man nodded his head in agreement, Settlemeyer stood up to shake hands with the other attorney. "We'll see you at 3:00, then. It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

"Yeah, well, just make sure your client holds up his end of the bargain, and it will be well worth it. Everything hinges on him being able to put on a convincing enough act to get Prescott's brother to provide the information needed to nail the bastard. And this time the only way the SOB will be getting out of jail will be in a coffin." He watched curiously as the two men left his office.

He debated what to do next; he had spoken recently to Brian, who had divulged to him that he and Justin was leaving on a three-week vacation, actually today, he remembered ironically. He had Kinney's cell phone number; should he call the man to let him know what was going on? After considering the idea for several seconds, he decided perhaps it was best if he kept them in the dark until he could reveal what had happened after Kingsley met with Prescott's brother. He decided the two men had been through enough turmoil lately and deserved some blissfully unaware time to themselves. There would be time enough in the near future to fill them in on what was transpiring now. And hopefully by then, he would have even better news for them – that he had found a way to not only keep Lane Prescott in jail until he rots, but also keep his brother in there with him for company. Smiling smugly, he picked up the phone to call his assistant to prepare the needed paperwork for later this afternoon.


	33. Chapter 33: Blissfully Unaware

Brian stood, amused, as he watched his future husband preening in front of the bathroom mirror. The younger man had finally gotten dressed in his suit and was now attempting to flatten his blond hair, which for some reason seemed to have a mind of its own tonight.

"Fuck!" No matter how many times Justin wetted his fingers and attempted to flatten a particular hair near the back of his head, as soon as he let go, the strand stood up straight as a rocket.

Chuckling now, Brian moved to stand directly behind his partner and placed his hands on the slim shoulders. "It's not worth getting your knickers in a knot," he teased.

"Yes it IS! I want everything to be perfect tonight!" the younger man insisted.

"Come here." Brian rolled his eyes while he gently turned the other man around. "Let Mommy see it," he cooed, receiving another stuck-out tongue from the blond as he reached up to try and help get the errant lock under control. "Maybe we should just stick your entire head under the faucet," he finally decided, when the hair refused to be managed. "Actually, I kind of like it. It gives you a "fuck me, I don't care" kind of look."

"Yeah, but I DO care. I don't want anything to go wrong tonight. We've waited so long for something to go right for a change after all the events of the past year."

"Justin, it's just a couple of stray hairs, for fuck's sake! It's not like you're going prematurely gray or something," he reasoned. "If I had some scissors handy, I could take of that in no time."

"Oh, no you don't! I'd probably wind up BALD after you got done!" Getting a sudden inspiration, the blond picked up a nearby tube of non-frizz gel and squirting a small dollop on his fingers, he tried once again to get the small patch of hair under control. He smiled triumphantly as he noticed the hair finally remained in place. "There," he said, pleased with his appearance as he turned sideways to make sure everything was finally in the right place. "That looks better."

Brian stood back a few feet to observe him. "I'd say it looks a hell of a lot more than just BETTER." He smiled appreciatively as Justin played up the other man's attention, turning 180 degrees for the other man to see the entire picture. "You look fantastic, Sunshine," Brian stated softly. "It's such a shame you won't get to wear it for very long," he joked.

Justin, though, didn't seem to mind that; the admiring look on his fiancé's face was more than enough to compensate. The younger man was adorned in a dark gray jacket and slate blue shirt that made his eyes pop, along with a charcoal gray pair of linen pants and black shoes. And unbeknownst to his partner, Justin had arranged for a member of the hotel staff to take a few photos of the two of them immediately after the ceremony. After all, a man had to have proof that the great Brian Kinney had actually agreed to get married, didn't he? He only hoped the man would stay STILL long enough and stay CLOTHED long enough to get the photos TAKEN.

Returning the favor, Justin peered over at his soon-to-be husband (even now, he had a hard time wrapping his head around that concept). "You clean up pretty well, too, Mr. Kinney," he told the brunet, openly eyeing the other man's casual, black Armani suit with a soft gray, open necked shirt. A discreet, light gray handkerchief poking out of the lone pocket and polished, black shoes completed the man's look. It was not overly dressy but was very elegant, and on Brian it fit him perfectly in all the right places.

"What time do we need to be downstairs for the ceremony?" Justin asked, as he walked over to the other man.

Looking at the Cartier watch on his wrist, Brian reported, "We've got about an hour. Ready for dinner?"

Justin rolled his eyes, acting like that was one the most ridiculous questions he had ever heard.

"Yeah, you're right – forget I asked," Brian smirked. _Some things never change._ _But, then again, some DO, thankfully._ "And here I was thinking that just the thought of being married to me would get you so excited you wouldn't be able to eat a THING," he teased.

"Oh, this will just be an appetizer," the blond revealed. "I'm saving the _main course _for later," he reminded the other man, his voice taking on a decidedly husky tone.

"Mmmm…..Sounds absolutely _delicious_," Brian agreed. He couldn't help punctuating his thought by leaning down to nuzzle behind the blond's earlobe as he felt a shiver run through his fiancé.

"Uh, uh, uh, no dessert for you right now," the blond chided him. "That comes MUCH later, after the main course, remember?."

"Uh, huh. Sounds like this meal's going to be SEVERAL courses long."

"The best ones ARE," his partner answered.

"Mmmm, hmmm. Well, are you ready for the first one, then?" he asked the blond, holding out a manicured hand.

"Definitely," Justin replied, placing his hand firmly in the other man's. They both smiled as, hands playfully swinging side by side, they walked out the door toward the elevator.

* * *

The _Whispering Inn_ shrewdly had built its business during the past few years on attracting gay partners to their establishment for their wedding ceremonies; as a result, everyone employed there was extremely hospitable as well as open-minded toward the same-sex couples that frequented the hotel.

It also made Justin and Brian feel quite comfortable as they entered the softly lit, intimate dining room and observed several apparently gay couples enjoying their meal. It was heartening to find a place where it seemed normal for them to continue to hold hands as they were led to a small, two-person table, set back in an alcove away from the other tables. A lone, gold candlestick holding a burgundy candle was alit, washing the round, gold-clothed table in a romantic glow, and there was a chilled bucket holding an expensive brand of champagne standing at their disposal. Two red, long-stemmed roses were the only other decoration on the table, in addition to their elegant place settings and wine flutes.

As they were seated, Justin looked around the room. He smiled at his partner, who was seated directly across from him. "Brian, this is beautiful – perfect."

"Yes, you are," the other man answered, lips curled under. Until Justin had entered his life, and wormed his way somehow into the hard shell surrounding his heart, he would have never imagined uttering such a compliment to any man. Even now, as much as he truly meant it, he still found it awkward to say it out loud. However, the radiant smile he received in return made it all worthwhile.

"Brian," Justin responded, embarrassed. Nonetheless, he reached over to take the other man's hand, slender fingers linking with the longer ones.

A soft clearing of a throat nearby made them turn as one toward its source. A distinguished-looking, silver haired man dressed in a uniform stood near their table. "Gentlemen? Are you ready for the first part of your dinner?"

Nodding in affirmation, the man placed two chilled plates containing a raspberry, pecan and avocado salad in front of them. "May I pour the champagne for you?" he offered.

As the two men again nodded, the server picked up the chilled bottle of Dom Perignon and deftly poured an equal amount into each glass. "Enjoy," he stated. "I will be back shortly with your main course," he announced, before bowing slightly and leaving them alone once again.

Taking a small sip, Brian declared, "Excellent," before indulging in a larger drink. He watched as Justin did the same, raising the blush-colored, stemmed flute to his lips and taking a sip. He laughed softly as he watched Justin crinkle and wriggle his nose, bunny style, as some of the bubbles apparently tickled him. He couldn't help thinking how incredible adorable his fiancé looked at that precise moment.

The crunch of the pecans, along with the creaminess of the avocado, was a delightful combination when paired with the red raspberries sprinkled throughout the salad. The two men had just finished them when their server reappeared with the main course, seared scallops with caviar vinaigrette.

"Ooh," Justin was amazed at the elegance of the presentation, not to mention the sheer size of the sea scallops resting on a bed of caviar. Brian smiled at the almost childlike awe sparkling from the blond's eyes as his partner speared one of the scallops and, placing it in his mouth, savored the delicate flavor of it on his tongue.

"Delicious," Justin announced, as he playfully stabbed another, plump scallop and dangled it tantalizing in front of Brian's lips. Congenially obliging his partner, Brian opened his mouth and, using his teeth, seductively pulled the scallop from the fork's tines to sample it. He was satisfied to find that the scallops had been seared expertly to a light, golden brown, and the caviar provided just the right amount of saltiness. "Hmmm," Brian commented. "My favorite dish, AFTER the one sitting across from me. And it reminds me of you, salty with just a little touch of sweetness."

"Brian," Justin murmured, blushing slightly. "Keep that up, and we may not MAKE it to the ceremony," he warned the other man.

"No backing out now, Sunshine," the brunet vowed. "You'll just have to keep your hormones in check until dessert time." Justin smiled at the other man, and advised him solemnly, "Maybe it would be best if you feed yourself the rest."

"I couldn't agree more. Wouldn't want the young'n gettin' overheated prematurely," Brian drawled in his best cowboy imitation, eliciting a rolling of the eyes from the blond.

The rest of their scallops were dispatched rapidly as both men savored each delectable bite. As their server diplomatically appeared just at the right moment to clear their plates and pour some more of their champagne, he asked them, "I hope both you gentlemen saved a little room for our famous house dessert," he asked.

Brian watched as his fiancé's eyebrows rose at the mention of dessert. _You little dessert slut,_ he thought affectionately. He told the server, "Well, we WERE going to wait until later for our _dessert,_" receiving a mock glare from his partner, "but it would be rude to pass up the house specialty." He watched, amused, as Justin's eyes positively lit up as the server nodded, placing a round, miniature German chocolate cake in front of each man. "Trust me," the server confided, "these are positively _decadent_. You won't be sorry," he added, smiling and winking at them before leaving with their dinner plates.

Brian grumbled, "Yeah, I won't be sorry until I find out the carb count for these fuckers."

"You know," Justin said thoughtfully. "It would really be proof you're in love if you actually EAT that. Besides, I guarantee you, Mr. Kinney, I will help you work ALL of it off later tonight," he added huskily.

Brian smiled indulgently, tongue-in-cheek, as Justin picked up an insanely large bite of the cake on his fork and held it out in front of his partner, waiting to see if he was going to accept the challenge. Smirking, Brian hesitated a few seconds before leaning over and, opening his mouth wide, placed his hand over the blond's, scraped the entire bite of cake off the fork and chewed it around his mouth. He followed the exaggerated show by quickly swallowing it.

"You're such a good boy," Justin purred, as he now took a bite of the gooey concoction. "Oh, fuck, this is GOOD," he gushed. "Are you going to eat the rest of yours?"

Laughing, Brian pushed his plate toward his partner's, shaking his head. "I think I'll save room for the _lower carb, high protein dessert_ later." He smiled as he watched the blond eagerly and effortlessly eat the remainder of both servings in record time.

Finishing off their bottle of champagne shortly thereafter, Brian rose and briefly stretched his arms to relieve the stiffness. Reaching out his hand to pull the other man up, he asked, "It's about time, Sunshine. Are we ready to do this?"

"MORE than ready, Mr. Kinney," the blond assured him, as he placed his hand in the other man's and stood next to his partner. Even now, Justin couldn't quite believe they were actually going to go through with this. But he knew he had never felt happier than he did right now.

Once again walking hand-in-hand, the two men passed their server, who bid them goodbye and congratulations, since he had been apprised of their need to finish dinner on time due to the impending ceremony nearby. As they exited the restaurant, the dramatic contrast of light and dark the two represented was not lost on most of the other restaurant patrons, who looked curiously and appreciatively at the two men who, by the looks they were giving each other, were so obviously in love.

As they once again moved out into the lobby, Justin noticed several rooms with closed doors. "Which one is it?" he asked Brian. Now that it was close to the time for their ceremony, he was suddenly getting butterflies in his stomach, not from any possible doubt, but just from the excitement of what they were about to do – FINALLY become husbands.

"Over there," Brian said, nodding his head toward a door located directly across from the restaurant; he had taken the liberty of asking the front desk clerk where the ceremony room was when they had checked in earlier today.

Walking slowly over to the door, still holding hands, Brian opened it to peer inside. It was a relatively small room – about 12 x 12 feet – but the fairly compact size of the room helped to create an intimate and romantic environment without being stuffy. There were three rows with a short aisle down the middle, four white metal chairs with fabric seats on either side. Both sides of the room had a long, wooden mantle-life shelf running down the center of each wall, with ivory- and gold-colored pillar candles placed on top and alit with a soft glow. Interspersed between each pillar candle was a squat, clear vase filled with woven blush-colored and deep, burgundy-hued roses; the scent of the roses permeated the room with a delicate perfume.

Justin looked over at Brian, who he expected was about to utter some variation of a type of smart-aleck comment about the room being "ridiculously romantic;" after explaining to his partner of its origin, it had become a sort of buzzword phrase for the brunet whenever he was forced to participate in a lesbionic moment with his partner. But surprisingly, the only look apparent on Brian's face at the moment was one of happiness as he looked back at him. Justin smiled in return, thinking the room was the most exquisite site he had ever seen, second only to the man who was standing next to him, ready to make the ultimate commitment of their love for each other.

A woman dressed in a dark blue, flowing dress with a white, silk sash draped loosely around her neck spoke to them as they entered and closed the door. "Mr. Kinney? Mr. Taylor?" Nodding their heads at her, she smiled. "I am Reverend McIntyre. I will be officiating at your ceremony this evening. Would you please step forward and stand in front of me? As soon as your witness arrives, we can begin," she advised them.

Right on cue, the door opened as a sharply-dressed, tall, brown-haired man, entered. "I apologize for being a few minutes late," he said, as he walked toward the two men to shake hands. "My name is Brad Henson, I'm the activities director for the _Whispering Inn. _I will be your witness this evening," he advised them, as he quickly took a seat a few feet away in the first row of chairs.

"Very well, then," the reverend replied. "Are you ready?" she asked the two men, who reluctantly let go of each other's hand and nodded.

"Good. Which one is Mr. Kinney?" she asked.

"That's me," Brian told her.

Nodding, she began the ceremony. "We are here today to witness the joining of Mr. Brian Kinney and Mr. Justin Taylor in matrimony. They are here this evening to profess their love and commitment to each other."

Turning toward Brian, she addressed him. "Brian, take's Justin's hand and repeat after me: _I, Brian, take you, Justin, as my husband. I promise to care for you and look after your needs. I shall always cherish you, soothe your troubles away and provide comfort when you need it. This is my eternal promise. I shall be your rock, and you will be the same. You can rely on me, and I on you. As my husband, you shall not want for anything. I shall be there for you, always, in joy and in sorrow." _

As the reverend stopped after each sentence for Brian to repeat it to the younger man, she noticed the blond's hand clapped over his mouth, almost as if he were afraid to breathe for fear the scene playing out in front of him was a dream, eyes awash in obvious tears of joy as the man he so clearly loved faithfully and succinctly repeated the commitment words to his fiancé.

When Brian was finished, the reverend smiled and turned toward Justin. "And now, Justin, please repeat after me: _I, Justin, take you, Brian, as my husband. I promise to care for you and look after your needs. I shall always cherish you, soothe your troubles away and provide comfort when you need it. This is my eternal promise. I shall be your rock, and you will be the same. You can rely on me, and I on you. As my husband, you shall not want for anything. I shall be there for you, always, in joy and in sorrow." _

Brian's eyes didn't leave Justin's face as the blond, choking voice filled with emotion, repeated the words provided by the reverend. He thought he had never seen such a beautiful sight as the expression on his partner's face as the younger man struggled to maintain his composure long enough to complete his vows.

Finally persevering to the end, he sniffled briefly, evoking a knowing smirk from the brunet. Without Brian saying it aloud, Justin could nonetheless hear the words echoing inside the other man, who had to bite his lip from saying it: _sentimental twat._ Right now, though, at that moment, he didn't care. He was too overcome with emotion and didn't mind one bit if his soon-to-be husband thought that, because right then he WAS a sentimental twat, and PROUD of it.

"Do you have the rings?" the reverend asked the two men. In response, Brian reached into his jacket pocket to produce the two, gleaming platinum and silver bands and place them in the reverend's outstretched hand.

Taking the smaller of the two rings, she handed it to Brian, who grasped it in his right hand. "Now, Brian, please place the ring on Justin's left hand and repeat after me: _With this ring, I thee wed._" Brian noticed Justin's hand shaking as he tenderly cradled it in his own hand and slipped the shiny band onto his ring finger. "_With this ring, I thee wed,_" he solemnly announced to his partner.

"And, now, Justin, please take this ring and, placing it on Brian's left hand, repeat after me: _With this ring, I thee wed._" Brian noticed with amusement that Justin's hand was STILL shaking as, this time, the blond reached to gently grasp Brian's hand as he placed the larger band on the brunet's ring finger. "_With this ring, I thee wed,_" he repeated softly, almost afraid to say it louder for fear he would find this was all just his imagination.

He knew it wasn't, however, as the two held hands and the reverend looked at them and smiled. "Congratulations, Brian and Justin. By the power vested in me by the State of Vermont, I hereby pronounce you married. You may now kiss," as if the two needed permission.

Justin shook his head slightly, smiling, as if he was still having difficulty believing they had actually gone through with; Brian reached down, and with his right hand, gently lifted the blond's chin and leaned down to begin a long, passionate kiss. Both man's arms automatically went around each other, Brian's around the blond's waist and Justin's around his new husband's neck, as the kiss deepened and showed no signs of ending.

They finally broke apart reluctantly but remained in each other's arms after hearing a slight chuckle from the reverend. "I think you can take it from here, gentlemen," she advised them, smiling. "You make quite a handsome couple," she observed. "If Mr. Henson will sign the official marriage certificate, we can get you on your way to more, no-doubt, _pleasurable_ activities, I'm sure." By the blush that appeared on the blond's face after that statement, the reverend had no doubt she had pretty much read their minds at that moment.

Mr. Henson signed as the witness on the certificate as the reverend retrieved it from the back of her dais; signing it herself, she motioned for the two men to step up next to her to sign on the allotted lines to complete the documentation. Brian wasn't really surprised that the director then pulled out a digital camera from behind the dias and took a few quick shots of the newly-married couple, promising Justin to provide them with copies tomorrow before they left for Greece.

Satisfied everything was in order, the reverend smiled as she handed the official wedding certificate to Brian. "Here you are, signed, sealed, and delivered," she told them, shaking both their hands. "Congratulations again," she repeated, walking away with the hotel director, leaving the newly-married couple blissfully alone at last.

Justin needed a few seconds to find his voice again. Turning to once again embrace his now _new husband's_ arms – god, he loved the sound of that – he smiled radiantly as he softly said, somewhat breathlessly, "We actually did it."

Brian smiled at him tenderly; he thought it might surprise his partner, and now _husband_, to know that he never had entertained any regrets about what he had just done. Amazingly to him, the only regret he had was that he hadn't followed through with it before NOW.

"Yeah, and you didn't even need a shotgun, Sunshine," he teased. He couldn't help leaning down once more to capture the full lips, the other man's tongue teasing him mercilessly for entrance. _It was going to be a LONG night. I CAN'T wait._

Whispering seductively, he asked, "Why don't we take this upstairs for a more private celebration? I think the hot tub might be a good place to begin our warm-up exercises, don't you?" As Justin turned his head slightly, he took advantage of his position to lick a trail from the blond's earlobe down to the side of his neck, receiving a distinct shiver of pleasure in response and a soft moan.

"I think that's an excellent idea, Mr. Kinney," he replied, voice barely above a whisper. "NOW."

"I'm at your command, Sunshine," he drawled, as the two newlyweds hurriedly rushed from the room, making a beeline for the elevator. As the doors closed and they found themselves miraculously alone, the only question was how much clothing would be remaining on each of their bodies before the doors opened again.

* * *

**_A/N: The vows are courtesy of a website I found, . I thought they were very fitting for our favorite couple. No copyright infringement is intended. :)_**


	34. Chapter 34: Diving for Treasure

**_A/N: Okay, I'm a little apprehensive about this chapter, because writing explicit scenes is not really my forte, so I hope it doesn't tank - LOL! But I had to at least try and do the boys' wedding night proper justice, though - hope I don't disappoint! Thanks as always for the constant encouragement and for hanging in there with me...._**

* * *

If the hotel had contained more than three floors, there would have been an excellent chance that the two men presently waiting impatiently in the elevator car would have been fully unclothed by the time it finally reached their top-floor suite. It was certainly not for lack of trying, as the two newly-married men were currently fumbling to remove as many layers as possible during their interminable ride upward.

"Brian, slow down," Justin laughed breathlessly, after the other man had successfully managed to remove the blond's suit coat, shirt, and belt in about 30 seconds tops, and was presently working on taking his suddenly _too-damn-tight_ pants off. "There ARE other guests in this hotel, you know," he scolded the other man, who was also using his sensitive lips to explore his husband's neck and earlobe, nipping at just the spot he knew would drive Justin crazy; an abrupt groan of pleasure was verification of that.

To his credit, the blonde was trying hard to show a modicum of restraint until they could get inside their suite, but he was also having difficulty following through on his intentions. It wasn't as if he hadn't engaged in this type of activity who knows how many times before with Brian, but the fact that this particular, beautiful specimen of a man was now his HUSBAND seemed to heighten the urgency even more. "Oh, what the hell," he finally said, chuckling, as he attacked the brunet's clothing, also, frantically shrugging the coat off the taller man's shoulders and determinedly trying to unbutton his silk shirt. His husband's lips and hands, which seemed to be roaming EVERYWHERE, were making it difficult, if not impossible, to carry out his task successfully, however.

The door chime dinged, signifying their car was about to open on their floor; both men were too busy trying to finish their task to barely notice until the doors swung open. Fortunately, the hallway was clear of other guests who might not be expecting two extremely horny, handsome men disembarking from an elevator wearing only black Armani briefs.

"Brian," Justin laughed, "Wait," he implored, noticing the other man was actually forgetting his outrageously expensive clothing that was scattered all over the elevator car floor, about to be totally forgotten. _Only your hormones in extreme overdrive would make you forget about your Gucci suit_, the blonde thought, thoroughly amused.

"Fuck the damn suit, husband!" Brian growled. Justin actually squealed in delight as the taller man unexpectedly lifted the slender body in a fireman's carry over his shoulders as he rushed hurriedly down the corridor toward their suite door. _Thank God for key cards,_ Justin thought, watching over his shoulder as Brian jammed the card into the slot and kicked the door open with his foot.

Like a man on a mission, Brian perfunctorily noticed the hotel staff had fulfilled his request earlier and had furnished their luxuriously-fashioned suite with a silver platter of jumbo-sized, chocolate covered strawberries and a matching silver bowl of whipped cream. Another chilled bottle of _Dom Perignon_ accompanied the fruit nearby. The brunet did not pay it much mind at the moment, however, because he had much more _important_ matters on his mind, namely, fucking the blond dynamo in his arms senseless.

Still carrying the smaller man over his shoulder, he marched over to the French doors and, using one hand, turned the knob that would open onto the balcony. Flinging the door open a little too forcefully, Justin giggled as he heard it bang violently against the wall. "So _impatient, Rhett_" he teased the brunet. "I thought I was supposed to be the _ravisher, _and YOU were supposed to be the _ravishee."_

"Picky, picky," the other growled. "You'll get your turn LATER," he commanded, as he promptly walked toward the hot tub, which the hotel staff had already prepared for their use.

Feeling the slender man begin to shiver, Brian couldn't help taunting him. "You're COLD? That's impossible – I am too HOT for you to be cold."

The blond snorted as he issued a rejoinder. "Brian, it's fucking FREEZING out here, I don't care HOW hot you are."

"Well, in that case, Sunshine, we'd better _warm you up._" And he proceeded to do so, however not in the method Justin would have hoped, as the older man not so stylishly dropped his new husband headfirst into the heated water.

Sputtering at the unexpected treatment, Justin splashed back to the surface, indignantly yelling, "You fucker! Why did you DO that?!"

Laughing, Brian decided to enter the hot tub in a more fluid manner by gracefully hoisting himself over the edge and slowly inching his long body into the water. "Ah," he groaned in contentment as the heated water washed over his legs and torso as he sat down in the tub. Noticing the other man still glaring at him, he replied, "You SAID you were freezing, Sunshine. I was just trying to get you warmed up in a hurry."

"That's NOT the method I had in mind," Justin retorted, shaking his head side to side to try and wring out some of the water from his ears and hair.

"Just what did you have in mind, Sunshine?" his husband asked innocently, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing that would involve YOU," Justin replied haughtily, crossing his arms across his chest in emphasis. His eyes narrowed, however, as he saw the sudden, predatory look that instantly appeared on the brunet's face.

"Oh, is THAT so?" The hazel eyes studied the blue ones closely as Brian slowly crept in the water toward his prey, watching as his husband's eyes grew larger and dilated with lust. _You little twat_, he silently joked to himself. _Much too easy._

As Brian came within a foot of his quarry, he was suddenly splashed full in the face; this time, HE was the one sputtering. "Why you little FUCKER!" Brian cried in mock outrage, as he reached out to snare his prey before the blond had a chance to escape. Giggling openly now, Justin did not put up much of a fight once the brunet wrapped his arms around the slender body and his lips plastered themselves to his. Tongues came out quickly to duel with each other and both pairs of arms traveled over each other's back in a mirrored, urgent caress.

Brian removed his hands from around Justin's back just long enough to remove the blond's briefs; once that was accomplished in efficient fashion, he reached down to do the same to his own pair. Now totally naked, there was at last no barrier to the expression of their love. Brian looked at his new husband, the love of his life, the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The full moon overhead made his hair shine; even soaking wet, the hair was golden. And his skin – the pale skin almost shone translucent in the light above. But perhaps most captivating of all was the pair of blue, sparkling eyes that were shining back at him with so much love. Just then, Justin rewarded him with one of his trademark smiles and his happiness was complete.

Justin looked over at Brian, who had suddenly changed from a man intent on a fucking mission to a man now staring unabashedly at him with so much love, it made him blush. The hazel eyes twinkled in the moonlight shining overhead, and the auburn hair had hints of reddish-gold. As Justin smiled at his husband _- God, he LOVED that word – _he was rewarded with a smile in return that almost rivaled one of his own.

"Brian," he murmured softly. He was so overcome with emotion at that moment, he wasn't really sure he could speak. Swallowing the lump in his throat, however, he was finally able to say the only words that were important at that moment: "I love you so much."

Brian slowly inched back toward the blond; there was no rush – they had all night to celebrate their union. But there WAS something he needed to take care of first. As he came close enough to place both hands gently on either side of the blond head, he softly replied, "I love you, too, Justin. You're my EVERYTHNG," he explained simply, before both came together of their one accord for a passionate kiss.

Finally pulling back from their kiss, breathless, they both decided it was finally time to inaugurate their hot tub in _proper_ Brian and Justin fashion. There was no question, however, that what occurred afterward was lovemaking and not just fucking. It was plain in the tender kisses that Brian rained all over his husband's face, and in Justin's soft whimpers in response. It was clear in Justin's slender hands almost reverently caressing every inch of Brian's body, and in Brian's sighs of pleasure as he was being worshipped endlessly.

Finally sated and satisfied after an hour of _aquatic exercise,_ Brian was the first to emerge from their watery pleasure palace, turning to help his husband out of the hot tub. As Justin jumped down to the ground, the brunet couldn't help stealing one more kiss from the plump lips before reaching for a nearby, jumbo-sized Egyptian cotton bath sheet and wrapping both of them together, cocoon-style.

Observing the noticeable boner the blonde was displaying, Brian teased, "Are you just cold, Sunshine, or is there another reason for your _excitement?"_

Justin smiled, huskily whispering in the other man's ear, "Let's go inside and you can _find out_."

As Brian opened the French doors, he heard Justin exclaim, "Ooh, chocolate-covered strawberries," as he broke from the brunet's grasp and scurried over the bedside table to check them out.

Smiling indulgently, Brian sat down next to Justin on the bed and reached over for a particularly large berry, holding out the chocolate-end to his husband's luscious lips. The blond did not need any encouragement to open his mouth and bite into the succulent fruit, closing his eyes to savor the combination of sweetness on his tongue. "Mmmm," he hummed in contentment.

Opening his eyes, he smiled sheepishly. "Your turn, Mr. Kinney," he whispered seductively, partly expecting Brian to protest and make some comment about the fuckingly high-carb content of the chocolate. Instead, the brunet simply smiled and opened his mouth in concession. As Justin moved to place the large berry in his mouth, however, the brunet took the opportunity to suck not only on the food but also the two pale fingers holding it anchored in his mouth.

"Delicious," Brian declared huskily, before swooping down for a chocolate-berry flavored kiss. He gently pushed the blond down on the king-sized bed, surprised to find out it was actually a _waterbed._

"Hope you don't get seasick, Sunshine," he teased the other man. "I see some _high waves_ coming up shortly," he warned.

Justin reached to pull Brian down on top of him, purring, "I guess I'll just have to _ride it out then_, won't I?"

Brian groaned as their bodies rubbed together. Smirking, he commented, "I guess you weren't cold before, huh?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say THAT," Justin whispered playfully. "But I'm definitely NOT cold now." The slender hand groped below for its target; locating the object of his search, he firmly wrapped his hand around the other man's fully-erect cock. "And neither are YOU."

Brian's mouth twisted into an amused expression. "Up, periscope."

Justin laughed as he used his free hand to pull the brunet down for a sound kiss. "Hold onto your life preserver then, captain, because this sub's about to dive!" He suddenly reversed their positions, flipping Brian over and using his advantage to slide down the other man's toned body, kissing every inch he could find along the way as his hands preceded him. Finally locating Brian's _periscope_, he proceeded to take the man's entire length greedily into his mouth, lips humming and sucking on the cock harder than a Hoover.

Brian arched off the bed in extreme pleasure; Justin was an absolute consummate artist, and Brian was his masterpiece. _What this man can do to me!_ It didn't take but a couple of minutes of the blond's skilled ministrations before the brunet climaxed in an explosive eruption, Justin greedily swallowing every sweet drop of the nectar.

"Proud of yourself?" Brian asked his Picasso, who was presently looking up at him like a cat that ate the proverbial canary.

"Extremely," the blond reported, grinning wildly and licking his lips.

"Well, that's good, because now it's time for the _big boy _to do some _scuba diving_," Brian drawled. Justin laughed and rolled his eyes as the brunet turned him over onto his stomach. As he looked at the pale, smooth, glowing skin splayed before him, Brian couldn't help briefly reaching down to softly run his fingers through the soft, blond hair he loved so much, before his hand traveled gently from Justin's neck down to his lower back, then over the curve of the wonderfully-shaped buttocks. The blond shivered in pleasure as Brian replaced his hand with his lips, licking a wet trail down the same path. Justin whimpered slightly in disappointment as Brian's lips abruptly stopped their gentle trek downward.

Noticing Brian hesitating before going any further, Justin turned his head to ask, "Brian?"

Brian whispered softly in his ear, "Turn over, Sunshine. I want to see your beautiful face while we're making love." The blond was happy to oblige as he slowly turned over to stare into the mesmerizing, expressive hazel eyes.

As Brian kneeled in front of him and reached over for the lubricant, Justin's eyes never left him. The sapphire eyes, however, became big as saucers as he noticed Brian NOT reaching for something else before he began to prepare the younger man for penetration. "Brian? Are you…."

As Brian warmed the liquid up and rubbed it on his now rock-hard cock and on Justin's hole, he answered, "I haven't been with anyone else for a long time, Sunshine," he confirmed. "After you, there's just no comparison," he explained, almost shyly. "This IS what you want, isn't it?" he asked, seeing what appeared to be a look of wonder on the blond's face.

Justin's heart was beating rapidly in excitement as he answered, breathlessly, "More than anything."

Nodding, Brian threaded their hands together as he slowly plunged into his partner's welcoming body. Having made love in the hot tub earlier, Justin's body was already prepared suitably for penetration; however Brian had used a condom then. This time, well, was NOTHING like Justin OR Brian had ever been able to imagine. God knows they had both dreamed of this day for months now, hell, probably YEARS, almost since the first day they had met. But nothing prepared them for the feeling of unsheathed skin on skin. Brian moaned in ecstasy as Justin moved in rhythm with him; they knew their partner's body so well by now. But the feeling, the slickness, the sensory overload. This was heaven.

As Brian's tempo increased in speed and urgency, he reached down to pleasure his husband as he felt his climax nearing; this new experience for both of them would not require much time before they both would fall over the edge in absolute euphoria. A few determined pumps on Justin's cock was all it took before they both cried out in unison and climaxed violently together.

Afterward, Brian remained slumped over the slighter man, too overwhelmed with the sheer intensity of what had just happened to think about pulling out just yet. Justin's hands slowly wrapped themselves around the brunet's waist possessively, signaling his wish for Brian to stay where he was.

After a few minutes, however, Brian pushed away gently from his husband, the slender hands reluctantly releasing their hold on him to allow the larger man to turn over onto his back beside him.

Totally sated and thunderstruck by the emotion coursing through their bodies, it was several seconds before either could speak. Finding his voice first, Brian turned toward the blond and coarsely whispered, "Sunshine, that was……._incredible._"

Justin smiled and returned his gaze, eyes shining with unshed tears. He shook his head slightly, still too choked with emotion to speak. He simply turned on his side, reaching a slim hand over to caress the other man's chest. Brian leaned down to kiss the top of the soft, blond head, resting one of his long hands on the other's hip. "I love you, you sentimental twat," he whispered.

Justin murmured, "I love you, too," before, totally exhausted, his eyes fluttered closed and he fell asleep. Brian watched the regular rise and fall of his husband's chest for a few minutes before he, too, fell into a blissfully deep sleep, arm wrapped tightly around the other's slender waist.


	35. Chapter 35: Preparations

_The Next Morning_

Brian was awakened by blond hair tickling his nose. As his eyes slowly became accustomed to the bright sunlight shining through the suite's French doors, he raised his head just enough to observe his husband still softly snoring on his shoulder. The light bouncing off the gleaming, gold and platinum wedding band worn on the younger man's finger made the memorable events of the previous night come rushing back to him – that and the delicious, stiff and sore feeling all over his body from his and Justin's several rounds of lovemaking. _Fuck – maybe I AM getting too old for this._ Dismissing that thought instantly – he couldn't help it if Justin's libido was more than a match for his own – he gingerly sought to disentangle himself from the blond's loose grasp.

After several seconds, he slowly rose from the bed, making sure Justin was still asleep, and walked over to the kitchen area to start some coffee and visit the bathroom to relieve himself. He also took advantage of the momentary silence to quietly phone room service for some breakfast.

Sipping his coffee while sitting in one of the leather recliners, he heard the soft knocking on their door approximately 15 minutes later. Taking the serving tray from the employee and paying him a generous tip, he quietly walked over to the sleeping, blond vision still slumbering peacefully.

Gently setting the tray down on the bed table, he leaned over to give his new husband a gentle kiss on the lips. "Rise and shine, sunshine," Brian whispered into his ear. At first, the only indication that Justin had heard him was a slight crinkling of the button nose; a few seconds later, though, he watched as the long lashes slowly fluttered open and a faint hint of blue appeared underneath.

Smiling tenderly, he again reached down to kiss the plump lips; this time, the blond responded in turn, pink tongue peeking out briefly to slip into the other man's mouth as his arms went up to pull the head more firmly forward to deepen the kiss.

Brian chuckled softly. "I see Sleeping Beauty is finally awake," he commented. "Almost, anyway. If you sit up, I've got a nice surprise for you."

The blond finally spoke. "I already got that last night." His normally rich voice, however, came out as raspy and soft.

Brian frowned, concerned. "Justin? What happened to your voice?"

"I don't know," he croaked, throatily. "It was fine last night." Teasingly, he added, "Maybe it's from sucking your dick too much."

Brian smirked, his concern, though, still not assuaged. "I don't think so. You've never had a problem with that BEFORE. Do you feel sick? I hope you're not coming down with something."

"I don't feel bad," his husband assured him. "Just a little sore throat."

"Well, you sound like a male version of Kathleen Turner," Brian observed. "If it wasn't for the fact that you might be getting sick, it would actually be kind of sexy," he drawled.

"Anything to get into my shorts."

"You're not WEARING any shorts," his husband retorted, noticing the other man's obvious sign of desire. "That makes it a lot easier to take care of ONE of your problems, anyway," the brunet added, leaning down as the other man smiled and pulled him full force onto the bed with him. "Yeah, Doctor, I got it REAL bad. You'd better kiss and make it ALL better."

"My _pleasure_, Mr. Taylor. I think your condition will require something up your ass, and I DON'T mean a suppository," he commented, drawing a raspy laugh from the other man before he was smothered with kisses and fucked the blond senseless.

* * *

About an hour later, Brian remembered the original reason why he had awakened his husband. Reaching over from the bed, he grabbed a hold of the silver tray with two covered dishes on top and, with a flourish, placed it on the other man's lap.

Delighted, Justin asked, "What's this?"

"This is what is known as _breakfast in bed_," he announced, a sarcastic expression on his face.

"I thought that's what I just HAD," Justin teased, again the voice coming out just slightly louder than a throaty whisper.

Brian swatted him playfully. "This is the high-carb version; we just got through with the _high-protein_ part."

"Ah," Justin rasped. As he lifted the two platter covers, he smiled in delight: Brian had arranged for a delivery of milk and _Captain Crunch_ cereal, along with fresh blueberries on one plate, while the other held a jumbo, Stuffed Strawberry Belgian Waffle with syrup and fresh whipped cream. Of course, by the time the _high-carb_ breakfast was uncovered, the waffle was cold.

Brian gallantly retrieved the waffle from the blond's possession and promptly warmed it up in the microwave as the slender man with the outrageously, insanely-high metabolism gulped down the cereal.

He watched from the recliner, amused, as Justin polished off the waffle in less than 10 minutes. "Well, your throat may be a little sore, and your voice may sound like Kermit the Frog, but there's apparently nothing wrong with your appetite, Sunshine. For food or _anything else,_" he smirked.

Getting a stuck-out tongue in response, Brian finished the rest of his coffee before advising, "Maybe you'd better see a doctor this morning before we leave for Greece. The last thing I want is for you to be sick while we're on our honeymoon."

"Brian, it's just a sore throat and a hoarse voice. It's no big deal," he managed to squeak out.

"Still, Sunshine, we don't want whatever you've got to get worse," he persisted. "What will it hurt for you to be checked out?"

"Okay, okay," he remarked, holding out his hands in surrender. "I'll ask the front desk if there's an urgent care center or something nearby. Will that make you happy?"

Brian smiled. "Yes. That and a little more _nourishment_ while we take a shower," he whispered huskily. "Only can you try and be a little less vocal while we're fucking this time? Right now it makes me feel too much like I'm fucking _Mickey Mouse._"

Justin, who had arose from the bed and placed the breakfast tray down on the kitchen counter, didn't need to supply a vocal response to that remark; he simply smacked his nearby husband on the head.

"Ouch! At least your strength hasn't been affected any," he observed sarcastically, rubbing the top of his stinging head.

"I don't know," the blond squeaked. "I'm starting to feel a little weak….you might have to _carry _me to the shower." He suddenly appeared to stagger dramatically and, prolonging it as long as possible, finally fell to the floor in a heap.

"Nice try, Sunshine," Brian remarked, unconcerned, feet still propped up on the recliner. He saw the blond's head pop up slightly out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help smiling smugly.

"Fucker." Unfortunately what Justin intended to come out as a snappy retort instead came out as another high-pitched croak, causing Brian to laugh heartily. Totally frustrated, he stood up, hands on hips and turned, stomping into the bathroom, as Brian's laughter echoed behind him.

* * *

"Well, it looks like I'm going to live," Justin announced, as he walked back into their suite a few hours later. "As if YOU would care," he croaked indignantly. Unfortunately, he still sounded about the same.

"Exactly what did the doctor say?" the brunet asked from his perch on the couch.

"He said it was an upper respiratory infection, and gave me an antibiotic. He said it pretty much had to run its course, though. Said to gargle with some warm salt water in the meantime. Fortunately, for YOU it's not contagious. I'd hate for you to have to join the _Mickey Mouse Club_ with me," he added sarcastically.

"That didn't exactly sound sincere, Sunshine," his husband said. All he received in return was a fake smile.

As Justin came over to sit next to the brunet, however, Brian reached over and gently rubbed the other man's shoulders. "Poor baby," he cooed. "You're still MUCH more adorable than _Mickey Mouse, though." _

Justin's only response was a soft sigh of frustration as he turned and wrapped his hands around the other man's back, his head resting on his husband's chest. Brian turned and gently pulled the blond down onto the couch, spooning him around the long, lean body. He wrapped his own arm around the other's waist from behind as he whispered softly in the pale ear, "It'll be okay, Sunshine. You just need some TLC from your adoring husband." He thought he heard a slight sniffle in response, but knew enough not to call the other man out on it. He continued, instead, to tenderly caress the slender stomach soothingly until he felt the even, soft breathing of his lover's sleeping body. Smiling contently, he, too, closed his eyes in slumber.

* * *

_Pittsburgh – Same Day_

"Carl – come in." Greg Matthews motioned for the detective to enter his office. After meeting again with Kingsley and Settlemeyer a short while ago to sign the necessary paperwork, his silent promise to go home at a decent hour to be with his wife had been long forgotten.

"Hi, Greg," Carl Horvath greeted the other man, shaking his hand. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, as he accepted the proffered chair across from the attorney and sat down.

"Yeah. I thought you should know what happened to me today."

"I have a feeling this has to do with someone we both know and LOATHE," he answered with scorn. He held no respect or sympathy for the man who had tormented two of Debbie's "sons."

"You are very astute," Greg confirmed. "I got a visit this morning from David Kingsley and his attorney, Bruce Settlemeyer."

Carl thought for a few seconds – _why does that name sound familiar?_ Then it clicked. "You mean the detective who testified during Prescott's trial?"

"The one and same," Greg verified. "Seems he had some interesting information he wanted to tell me – for a price."

"Oh?"

"Yeah – it appears Prescott hasn't let his new, more _austere_ accommodations in prison cramp his style. According to Kingsley, he asked him to find someone to take care of Sinclair and Kinney for him."

Horvath was startled. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"You got it. He wanted Kingsley to find someone to dispose of both men for good. Told him to go see his brother, who now has control of all his money, and he would give him half up front and the other half when the job was done. Once an entrepreneur, always an entrepreneur," he commented caustically.

The police detective was stunned. "Unbelievable! What did Brian and Justin say when you told them?"_  
_

The other man looked a little uncomfortable as he admitted, "Actually, I haven't told them yet." Before the other man could protest, he explained, "I know they're on a vacation right now, and, besides, I really don't have a resolution to this situation yet. Kingsley has agreed to testify and gather additional evidence against Prescott and his brother in exchange for immunity from further prosecution. I think they've been through enough for now – I didn't see any point in telling them until I have more information for them. At least with Brian out of town, he will be relatively safe for now until we can nail Prescott and his brother for this latest stunt."

"Does Sinclair know?"

"Yes, he does. And he was absolutely shocked. Didn't really want to believe me at first, but I convinced him this was NO joke. That's why I called you here – I need your help to set up some undercover protection for him until this whole mess is resolved."

"You got it – just let me know what you need and I'll see that you get it."

"Thanks, Carl, I appreciate it."

Carl continued to stare at the other man in disbelief. "Shit. Just when you think he's someplace where he can't do any more harm, he pulls something like THIS. Unbelievable," he repeated. "So what's the next step?"

"Well, TWO steps, actually. I've contacted the prison officials at the correctional institution where Prescott's confined, and they're going through their recent surveillance tapes to verify that Kingsley DID in fact meet with Prescott on the day and time he indicated to me. It won't prove what was said, but at least it WILL prove that they did have a conversation together and will help to back up Kingsley's story. More importantly, though, we will be placing a wire on Kingsley to record his conversation tomorrow with Aiden Prescott, the brother. Let's just hope to hell he manages to trip the fucker up and get him to implicate his brother, in addition to himself. Everything hinges on how convincing Kingsley can be."

"Well, something tells me that guy's had plenty of practice being underhanded, so if anyone can pull it off, I'd bet HE can."

"I hope you're right," Greg responded. Standing up, he added, "What do you say we get out of here? It's been a hell of a day," he admitted.

As Carl walked out with him, Greg realized how exhausted he was. He was absolutely worn out, and tomorrow would no doubt prove to be an even longer day. He just hoped it would be a fruitful one as well – one that would finally help put Prescott and his accomplices where they couldn't do any more harm.

* * *

Gently caressing the soft, blond hair, Brian whispered, "Justin? Baby, we've got to get up and get ready for our flight." He noticed the sun was close to setting, the long shadows creeping through the double doors.

The only response the brunet received initially was a slight mumble as the other man snuggled deeper into the protective arms of his husband. _Well, at least I know he's still alive,_ he silently joked. Deciding it was time to resort to more overt action, Brian gently nudged the blond's shoulder and spoke a little louder this time. "Justin. We have to get up, Sunshine." He slowly released the other man from his embrace, hoping that would result in a little more productive reaction.

Fortunately, he got his wish as he noticed the blue eyes opening. Justin appeared a little disoriented at first, until he realized Brian was lying behind him on the couch where they had fallen asleep earlier. "What time is it?" he asked, his voice still raspy, as he slowly pulled himself upright to sit.

"It's almost 6:00 and our flight leaves at 8:30," he reported, twisting his body around to sit next to the younger man. "Got to get packed and checked out. The airport van is supposed to be here in an about an hour. Are you feeling any better?" he asked, reaching over to take the pale hand in his.

"Maybe a little," Justin answered hoarsely. "At least my throat isn't as sore now."

Brian smiled, relieved. "I'm glad. Hopefully you'll be good as new by the time we get to Mykonos."

Despite not feeling 100%, Justin's eyes shone with excitement at the thought of their next destination; Brian had not really told him much about their accommodations, other than to tell him it would be _fabulous_. Knowing his husband, he was sure they would be, and he couldn't wait to see what Brian had arranged for them. But really, he didn't care WHAT it looked like, as long as Brian was with him.

He reached over to plant a tender kiss on the brunet's lips before whispering, "I can't wait to get you alone on that island and make mad, passionate love to you while we watch the sunset over the Aegean Sea."

"Sounds like a great plan to me, _Mickey_," Brian teased, as Justin rolled his eyes in exasperation. Standing up, the brunet reached out his hand to pull Justin up, not being able to resist planting another kiss on his husband as he briefly sucked on the plump, lower lip before reluctantly letting him go. "Come on," he urged the other man, as he turned him around toward the bedroom. "I'm going to need your help to make sure what we brought here can fit BACK into our suitcases – sort of like when only one sock comes out of the dryer," he joked. Chuckling, Justin followed the taller man into the bedroom to prepare for the next leg of their journey.


	36. Chapter 36: All at Stake

_Pittsburgh – early morning_

"You remember what to do?" Matthews asked. "Our deal is only valid if you get us the information we need," he reminded the other man.

Kingsley nodded, eyes narrowing. "How can I forget? It's only jail time and quite possibly my _life_ if I don't. You'd just better make sure you hide this fucking wire so Prescott's brother doesn't catch on to what I'm doing. If being a psychopath runs in the family and he finds out what's going on, Kinney and Sinclair won't be the _only_ ones with a hit out on them."

"Relax, Kingsley, I know what I'm doing. And it's not like you haven't used this type of surveillance equipment before – for _perfectly legal_ reasons, I'm sure," the prosecutor said, knowing full well it was completely the opposite. Kingsley was so oily you could have marketed him alongside WD40.

Finally satisfied that he had the wire placed unobtrusively on the man's chest, Matthews nodded as the detective buttoned up his shirt; the microphone was a small, rectangular, flat piece that was state of the art; under the detective's shirt it was thankfully unnoticeable.

"Benton?" We're ready to do the test now," Horvath instructed his tech guy sitting out in the van. "Say something into the mike, Kingsley."

"Give me a million dollars and no questions asked," he quipped. "Then take a long vacation to Tahiti."

"Very funny," Matthews retorted. "Fuck this up and you WILL be taking a long vacation – in a pine box."

"Don't you think I KNOW that?" Kingsley answered, rolling his eyes. "I want this over with as much as YOU do. Prescott has been nothing but trouble since the first day I met him."

"Did you get that?" Horvath asked into his cell phone. "He says it came through loud and clear," he confirmed to the other men with a thumbs up. "Now we need to test the camera."

Kingsley turned toward Horvath and casually pressed the button on his left shirt cuff. The button looked identical to its mate on the detective's other sleeve; however, this button actually activated a camera eye resembling the larger buttons sewn onto the man's dress shirt near his chest.

Kingsley looked over at Horvath expectantly as the policeman checked with his tech guy again. "How's it look, Benton?" he asked the other man. After a few seconds, Carl smiled. "He says he likes me in navy blue."

Shaking his head in amazement, Kingsley's attorney, Settlemeyer, replied, "That's pretty incredible. I've never heard of such a thing."

"Of course not," Horvath answered. "Do you think we want to advertise these? Good thing we have this – there's no way with the extraordinary security enforcements Prescott's brother undertakes that we could get an undercover camera in there before your client pays him a visit."

"By the way, I DO have some other news," Matthews interrupted, directing his statement to the other attorney. "I spoke to the prison warden at the Pennsylvania Correctional Institute. They keep surveillance footage for six months on all visitors to the correctional facility. They had no trouble finding the footage of your client meeting with Prescott at the precise day and time he indicated. That will definitely help nail the bastard along with what Kingsley hopefully comes up with today."

"That's good," Settlemeyer agreed. "It validates what my client has been saying all along."

"Not totally," Matthews cautioned him. "It only proves the two had a conversation. What was SAID is up for interpretation. But I suppose if I had to choose, I would have to go along with your client's version over anything Prescott would have to say. He is NOT to be trusted. But we have to have more to go on that just some footage."

Kingsley frowned. He regretted the day he ever met Prescott and decided to hook up with him. At first the man only asked him to do legitimate work for him – security details for his fashion presentations, background checks on potential employees, etc. But recently the work had taken on a decidedly seedier side, requests that only seemed attractive because Prescott was willing to put up extremely large amounts of cash to keep him under his wing. Now he could possibly be looking at a long jail term if he failed to keep his secret assignment under wraps. This would have to be the acting role of his lifetime.

Matthews motioned for everyone to sit as he took out a legal pad. "Let's go over the schedule so everyone is on the same page here. You are set up to meet with Aiden Prescott at 10:30 this morning, correct?" At Kingsley nervous nod, he continued. "Carl, you will have the unmarked surveillance van sitting down the street from the hotel?"

"Right. Benton's got the guys all ready to go at my signal. We're very fortunate the guy agreed to meet Kingsley here in Pittsburgh. If we had had to coordinate a meeting with Prescott's brother at his corporate offices in New York, we would have had all types of logistical nightmares between hooking up with the NYC cops and being able to even park the van close enough to the complex to get a clear feed. This was a lucky break. Let's hope that's a good sign."

"Yeah, me too," Matthews agreed, as he looked intently at Kingsley. "So we've got the backup in place to record the video and audio of your conversation with Aiden Prescott, but it's all up to you. We need you to get Prescott's brother to not only implicate himself, but more importantly, Prescott. HE'S the big fish – if we can trip his brother up enough to divulge the information, it will send both him AND his brother away for a long time."

"Believe me, I want it as much as YOU do. But I'm not an actor."

"Don't sell yourself short," Matthews stated tersely. "I'm sure you put on quite the show when you impersonated Schmidt during your call to the security company to cancel Kinney's bodyguard detail."

"That was different – that was over the phone and my fucking _life_ wasn't on the line." He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. Just thinking about meeting up with Prescott's brother made his heart race.

"Well, everything's in motion – if you want to avoid a long jail sentence along with your _buddies, _you'll follow through on your pledge to do this." Matthews looked pointedly at Settlemeyer to elicit his aid.

"He's right," Settlemeyer confirmed to his client. "This is the only way to avoid further prosecution. Matthews is correct – the agreement you signed is only in effect if you gather the information he needs to nail the Prescott brothers. You're not backing out now, are you?" he pressed Kingsley.

Kingsley sat rigid in his chair, dread filling his body. Finally, he took a slow breath and let it out. "No," he finally answered softly. "I'm in."

Matthews and Horvath looked at each other and nodded. As he looked at his watch, he noticed it was almost 8:30 a.m. Standing up, he concluded the meeting by stating, "Okay, then, let's get to work."

"Let's go, Kingsley," Settlemeyer urged his client as the two started toward the door. "Dress rehearsal's over – it's time to get ready for the real thing."

As they left Matthews' office, Horvath couldn't help turning to Greg and asking him, "Do you think he's up to this? Does he have the nerve to go through with it? There's a lot depending on this."

"Don't I know it," Greg declared. "I'm still not sure I trust the guy, but we don't have any choice. If he doesn't convince Prescott's brother to be straight up with him, we're fucked. He's got to get him to say it out loud – clearly, and not with some clever euphenisms. He has to spell it out, and the guy's going to be very reluctant to do that. Let's hope Kingsley's act is worthy of an Oscar today."

"Yeah," Carl agreed. "Brian and Sinclair's lives could depend on it. Because if we don't nail Prescott and his brother now, I have no doubt they will find someone else to carry out their dirty work." He was silent in thought for a few seconds before asking, "You still think we shouldn't let at least Brian in on what's going on? I can see maybe not involving Justin right now after everything he's been through with the guy, but Brian could handle it."

"I think he could, too, but I've seen the two of them together, especially recently during the trial. It's obvious they love each other a great deal, and I've seen their deep bond. I don't think it's fair to Brian to place him in a situation where he has to withhold information about Prescott from Justin. In fact, I'm not even sure he COULD – they know each other too well. And Brian told me they're going out of the country on their vacation, so I really think he's safe for now. I'd rather wait and see what happens today. Hopefully, everything will turn out the way we hope and then I can tell them – AFTER they get back. And hopefully I'll be able to not only tell them about what happened, but I can assure them that Prescott AND his brother will be going away to jail for a long, long time."

Glancing up at the clock, Carl nodded. "I hope you're right. I like those boys, and I don't want to see them get hurt anymore. And I don't think I have to tell you how Debbie feels about them. They deserve a little normalcy for a change, and I'm going to do my part to see that hopefully they get it. Speaking of which, I'd better get out to Benton to make sure he's got everything ready to go. You want to meet back here at your office later today?"

"Definitely. In fact, I've already told Settlemeyer to have his client back here at 2:00 p.m. to discuss what happens. Will that give your guys enough time to review the video and audio feeds?"

"Yeah, that should be enough time. I'll plan on being back here at 2:00, then."

As Horvath walked toward the door, Greg called out in parting, "Good luck, Carl. I'll be waiting for your report. Let's hope it's a good one."

Just before he opened the door to leave, Carl turned to him and said, "Yeah, I hope so, too."

* * *

_Near Greece - Same Day_

Justin and Brian were blissfully oblivious to the drama about to be played out in their hometown; they were, instead, about to finally land in Athens; from there it would be a short jump to their destination island of Mykonos. Justin had spent a large amount of time in his first-class seat catching up on some shut-eye; the antibiotic the doctor had given him had made him markedly drowsy. So, unfortunately, despite Brian's intention to recruit his husband into the _International Mile High Club_ en-route, he finally decided it would have to wait until the return flight back to the States. Besides, he knew there would be plenty of time to make up for lost moments later. He couldn't wait to show Justin their accommodations on the island and to christen their villa _properly._

"What time it is?" he heard a mumbled question next to him; looking over, he observed the tousled, blond hair, somewhat cloudy eyes and flushed face – absolutely adorable. Brian smiled slightly in relief as he heard his husband's voice. "Why, Mickey, you almost sound back to normal. And I was getting kind of fond of the squeaky, high-pitched squeal."

Justin lightly smacked the brunet's arm. "Well, just get _unused _to it, Mr. Kinney. I for one don't think _horny_ and _Mickey Mouse _go together," he declared, evoking a small chuckle from his lover. "Admit it – would you get turned on by Mickey Mouse saying to you, _Fuck me hard? Ride my tight little ass_?" he whispered.

"Do mice even HAVE asses, Sunshine?" Brian grinned as Justin laughed. "Okay, I guess it would have been hard to keep a straight face. And you're not exactly quiet when you get _excited._"

"And you know how to get me _REALLY _excited, _Mr. Kinney_," he whispered seductively, reaching down to squeeze the brunet's cock in emphasis.

Brian couldn't stifle a small groan as he rushed to remove the slender, skillful hand. "Ah, Sunshine, you're not playing fair. We're about to land and they won't let us out of our seats now. Even if I _wanted_ to initiate you into the Mile High Club right now, I couldn't."

Justin smiled smugly; _I still have the touch._ "Well, if I remember correctly, we have an hour layover in Athens before our flight to Mykonos. Surely we can find a suitable way to pass our time while we're waiting."

Brian returned his smile. "Count on it, Sunshine. Count on it," as he reached over to grasp the wandering hand to still it. As he looked at the shiny band worn on the blond's hand, he still found it hard to believe they were married. But to his amazement, it really didn't frighten him. A few years ago, the mere thought of being committed to one person in a _relationship_, let alone a _marriage_, would have evoked a disbelieving sneer. But now, with this particular man, this incredible, passionate man, he found it oddly exhilarating. He had no doubt that this little, blond spitfire would keep him happy and sated for a LONG time – a lifetime, if he was lucky.

Justin looked over at the brunet who presently had a look of contemplation on his face. He knew he would never get tired of that face; a face of the man who had stood by him through so many difficult times, who had supported him when he needed it, and who had always believed in him. "Brian?"

"Yes, Justin?" he asked softly.

"I'm so happy we were able to get away together – just the two of us. And I'm so excited about seeing Mykonos. This is really the first time we've actually had a real vacation of any kind," he realized.

"I know," Brian responded. "We sure fucking needed it, too, after this past year."

"Yeah. But you know what I'm happiest about, Brian?" As Brian shook his head, Justin released Brian's hand just long enough to hold up his own, jeweled hand. "This," Justin said, indicating his wedding band. "I'm so happy that you're my husband. I didn't realize how much I wanted it until we actually went through with it. But I love you so fucking much, Brian Kinney. And I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you know that. And I want the world to know it."

Brian smiled tenderly at the sentimental, emotional blond sitting next to him. He knew Justin wouldn't expect him to echo his feelings – Brian still had trouble verbalizing how he felt, although in the past year or so he had made a conscious effort to tell Justin how he felt about him, especially after he feared he would lose him to Prescott. But Brian surprised even himself when he reached over once again to take the slender hand in his. Squeezing it slightly for emphasis, he told the blond, "I don't think I realized how much I wanted it, too, Sunshine. But I did. Really," he insisted, as he noticed the slight look of skepticism on Justin's face. "Of course, I expect you to spend the rest of your life convincing me that I made the _right_ decision," he added, rolling his lips under and waggling his eyebrows high as if waiting for a response.

"Is that all?" Justin asked. "I think I can handle that," he whispered, flashing one of his trademark smiles and leaning over toward the brunet to plant a quick kiss on his husband's soft lips. "Just don't count on me being a _quiet _participant," he warned. "Mickey's gone back to Disneyland. But our ride's just beginning."


	37. Chapter 37: The Acting Role of His Life

_Belpre Hotel – Pittsburgh – 10:15 a.m._

"Carl? Everything in place for our friend's Oscar-winning performance?" Greg asked the policeman.

Horvath leaned over the shoulder of Benton, peering at the camera picture being displayed. "Yeah," Carl verified to the prosecutor over his cell phone. "We're all set. I had our little actor say a few things over the mike and the camera's operating just like we had hoped. We actually tweaked the feed a little to display the video on a continual loop rather than Kingsley use it as a still camera. That way he doesn't have to worry about making sure he takes a photo and we'll have the whole conversation hopefully on audio as well as video. And it will make him less suspicious-looking. Everything's in perfect order equipment wise. It's all up to him now….and to Prescott's brother. Let's hope his brother doesn't have any more common sense than Prescott did."

"Yeah, I hear you. This is not only going to take some good acting on Kingsley's part but a whole hell of a lot of luck, too. Personally, I think it's about time Justin and Brian got some of that, don't you?"

Horvath nodded grimly, even though he knew the other man couldn't see him. "Yeah. And I know my home life would be a whole lot nicer if I could give Debbie some good news when I get home."

Matthews chuckled. "Don't even go there. My wife says I've been at home so little lately that she took one of my photos and placed it on my chair at the dining room table so she can remember what I look like."

"Well, let's hope she'll get to see the real thing soon," Carl replied. Looking at his watch and noticing it was nearing 10:30, he said, "I'd better sign off. We'll meet you back at your office at 2:00 with the results."

"Good luck, Carl," Greg wished him.

"Thanks." Turning to Benton, he advised the man, "Make sure you get that camera in focus as soon as Kingsley enters Prescott's hotel suite. I want to see every wrinkle on that bastard's face."

"You got it, Detective," Benton responded. "The audio's already been adjusted to a good volume. We should be able to hear everything clearly as long as he stays within 10 feet of the guy. That mike's super sensitive."

Carl nodded. "Good." Silently crossing his heart, he fervently hoped Kingsley's act would be the role of his lifetime. In a way, it would HAVE to be. Prescott wasn't playing around. If Prescott's brother learned somehow that Kingsley had turned informant, the policeman was convinced Kingsley's life would definitely be in jeopardy; it didn't matter HOW far he ran. With the right amount of money, of which Prescott had an overabundance of supply, anyone could be found anywhere at any time.

Carl watched the screen intently behind Benton as the image showed Kingsley now walking down a corridor; having exited the elevator car, he was apparently on the fifth floor, where Suite #515 was located. Taking full advantage of his role as Prescott's financial caretaker, his brother had spared no expense while in Pittsburgh and had booked the most expense suite in the swanky downtown hotel, a penthouse located on the top floor. Carl thought to himself, _I wonder if Prescott knows how lavishly his brother is living while he is in a 7 x 7 foot prison cell. _Although he found it impossible to feel sorry for the man who had previously had the world at his fingertips. Hopefully soon his brother would be joining him, he thought grimly.

Turning his attention back to Kingsley's progress, he noticed the man slowing down as he approached #515. The man seemed to hesitate for a few seconds as if he were trying to calm himself and take a deep breath before Carl heard and saw him knock on the door.

After a brief period, the door was opened by a, stern, bulky-looking black-haired man wearing a dark navy suit. Towering over the wiry, thin man nervously standing on the threshold, he looked the redhead over thoroughly before greeting him with a curt "Yes?"

Kingsley cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the large lump that had suddenly appeared. In a faltering voice, he said, "I'm….David Kingsley. I have an appointment with Mr. Prescott."

A few seconds transpired before the man held the door open wider to allow the smaller detective to enter. Carl was gratified to notice that he could hear each side of the conversation clearly while Benton worked diligently to get the continual camera footage in focus. The image blurred for a few seconds before Benton turned the resolution the other direction and the picture thankfully turned crystal clear. _Well, we have the audio and video all set for your acting debut, Kingsley – better make damn sure it's a GOOD one._

Carl abruptly heard a voice slightly off-camera that he would have recognized even without a formal introduction; it sounded almost identical to Lane Prescott's voice - a voice that the detective had unfortunately been forced to listen to far too many times now.

"Ah, if it isn't dear Mr. Kingsley," the man's voice said, becoming louder as Kingsley apparently approached the other man.

"Hello, Aiden," Kingsley softly greeted the other man in a faltering voice. _Have a damn backbone, Kingsley,_ Carl thought.

As Kingsley walked closer to the other speaker, he finally came into camera range and Carl could not help letting out a gasp. Not only did Prescott's brother sound remarkably like him, he LOOKED identically like the other man, too. If Carl hadn't known for sure that Lane Prescott was in prison at that very moment, he would have sworn the man had somehow escaped, because his brother was the spitting image of him. _Twin brothers._ _Evil incarnate_, he thought. Carl was once again glad he had not advised Justin and Brian of what was transpiring at that moment; if Justin, especially, had seen Prescott's brother right now, the blond might have well freaked out. It would be like confronting his tormentor all over again.

The stocky man who was apparently a bodyguard for Prescott followed Kingsley closely into the main living area of the suite. "Just a minute," he instructed Kingsley. "Turn around." Kingsley gulped noticeably as the large man raised his arms out beside him and ran his hands over his entire body, apparently looking for either a gun, a hidden microphone, or both. Kingsley broke out into a light sweat under the intense scrutiny. _Please,_ he pleaded silently. _Don't let them find anything._ Horvath had assured him that the wire was so tiny and the mike so flat that it would take an absolute strip search to find it. _God, please don't make me take this shirt off,_ Kingsley prayed. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Kingsley, the bodyguard nodded to Prescott, who seemed satisfied.

Carl let out a collective sigh and looked over, relieved at Benton as Prescott's brother motioned for the detective to sit down in a large, stuffed chair angled toward him on the couch, asking, "Drink, Kingsley? Coffee?" as if he were an airline steward serving his contingent.

"Uh, no, thanks," Kingsley fumbled. Carl cursed inwardly; the man was acting like he was going to the guillotine and seemed to have absolutely no spine. _Maybe in a way he WAS going to the guillotine,_ came unbidden to the policeman's mind. _Let's hope not._

"Brad?" Prescott called to the stocky, dark-haired man who had greeted Kingsley at the door. "A gin and tonic." Nodding in an acknowledgement to his boss, Kingsley watched as the strong, burly man walked toward what appeared to be a bar area to fix a drink for Prescott.

"Nice suite, Prescott," Kingsley commented, evidently attempting to make polite conversation; if the whole situation hadn't been so serious, Carl would have laughed out loud at the man's inane comment.

"Yeah," Prescott agreed amiably enough. "Never been here before. I just told them I wanted the best, though. SOMEONE'S got to live comfortably while big brother is doing his _charity work._" Prescott laughed , seemingly impressed with what he thought was a clever joke at his brother's expense. "Thanks, Brad," Prescott said, as he took the drink from his bodyguard's outstretched hand. "You can wait in the other room," he instructed him. Nodding curtly, the man turned around and headed back into the other wing of the suite, closing the door behind him.

"Now that any prying eyes are out of the way, perhaps we should get down to business," Prescott began without any further preamble, no longer bothering to continue any more small talk. "My brother told me you would be paying me a visit to conduct some business," he commented vaguely.

Kingsley took a breath to steady himself before speaking again. He knew what was on the line here; his freedom and quite possibly his life. _C'mon, Prescott, spell it out……PLEASE._

"That's right," Kingsley confirmed. "He said you could provide me with the proper advance to get our _business _started."

Prescott nodded. "Yeah. Provided you find me the right _partner_ for the deal. I don't want some guy fresh out of _training school_."

"Oh, don't be concerned," he tried to reassure the other man. "I have the necessary contacts to find you just the right partner for what your brother needs to be _successful_." Kingsley began to worry they were going to spend the entire conversation speaking in riddles; if so, this whole endeavor would be useless, both to him AND to the prosecutor's office.

Prescott smiled. "That's good. My brother doesn't like failure. He's a strong believer in doing it right the first time or not doing it at ALL. Of course, when someone fails, he doesn't like it – one bit. He tends to overreact, in fact," the man warned. There was no mistaking the implication in his voice.

_Come on, Kingsley! So far we have NOTHING,_ Carl tried to somehow telegraph to the other man as he seethed inside. The policeman realized they were only going to get one shot at this - it was now or never.

Suddenly Kingsley must have decided he was tired of playing Prescott's game and gambled for all the goods. Taking on a voice that was a lot stronger than the man actually felt inside, he gruffly retorted, "Why don't we just cut through all this bullshit and call a spade a spade? My fucking life's on the line here, too, you know. I don't want any question as to what exactly we're talking about here, okay? Or do you not have the balls that your BROTHER has? HE didn't have any problem spelling out for me exactly what he wanted. Do you? I want NO question as to what is about to happen here, okay?" he repeated, internally holding his breath that maybe he hadn't just made the biggest fucking mistake of his life, and maybe the LAST mistake of his life. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest as he tried furiously to maintain a smug, confident look on his face. He tried to remember that he had the upper hand; Prescott and his brother were depending upon him to find the right hit man for the job. They weren't exactly well-acquainted with killers; no doubt that would just mess up their genteel sensibilities.

After holding his breath for a few seconds, trying to gauge what the other man's reaction would be – outrage, amusement, scorn? – Prescott's brother inexplicably did something then that Kingsley would never have expected; he _laughed._

"Well done, Kingsley," he chuckled. "I like a man with guts. And to answer your question, YES, I have even greater balls than Lane. But unless you swing that way, I'm afraid I would just be wasting my time by proving it to you," the man confided to him, winking at him now as if they were long-last pals. "I LIKE you, Kingsley. I like men that don't mince words. I never was a big fan of James Bond and his subterfuge, anyway. No offense," he told the other man jokingly. "You got guts," he declared, smiling now.

Kingsley closed his eyes briefly in relief. As he opened them, he noticed Prescott had moved from the couch to stand by the wall-to-ceiling windows overlooking the downtown Pittsburgh skyline, his back to the detective. "You know," he commented, his voice a little muffled by his stance. "I never thought that one day I'd be running Lane's company for him, that I would have control over all his money. That my _brother_ would be in a fucking prison, maybe for the rest of his life. Oh, don't get me wrong, we've had our share of differences, especially over how my father's company should be run. But I was normally okay with being a silent partner in the business, especially once I saw how profitable Lane was making the company." He snorted as he revealed, "He only got to run the business because he was born a few fucking minutes before I was."

Aiden finally turned around, thankfully, to face Kingsley so Carl could see him clearly and hear him perfectly as the spitting image of Lane Prescott continued his contemplative soliloquy. "But once Lane fell hard for that damn blond, _Justin Taylor_, he changed into a totally different man. He was fucking _obsessed_ with the guy, to the point where he about ran our father's business into the damn ground because of his neglect."

"So it's kind of poetic justice in a way that Lane got sent to prison and now I get to run my father's business the way I know he would have WANTED it run. I'm going to prove to my _older_ brother that I can do a fucking better job of turning a profit than he _ever_ could," he vowed, the conceit and arrogance oddly reminiscent of his twin brother. In fact, for a few seconds, Kingsley would have sworn he was talking to Lane instead of Aiden.

"But that's a subject for another day," Prescott decided, returning to the couch again to sit closer to the other man. "We have to get rid of his _predicament_ first, don't we? _Big brother _isn't happy in his new digs. And he's not happy with who he thinks put him there. Well, I can afford to be magnanimous with a _little_ bit of his money, I guess, if it will make him happy. After all, he's not going anywhere soon, is he?" the man laughed, apparently pleased with himself.

Kingsley licked his lips nervously. "No, I guess not," he responded. "But I DID promise him I would find the right man to take care of Kinney and Sinclair for him." _Come on, you fucker, damn it! Spell it out._

"Ah, yes. The final laugh for my dear brother. The ONLY satisfaction he can get from his prison cell. Seeing the men dead who he feels is responsible for his new, designer _home away from home._" Peering intently at the detective, he asked, "So tell me, Kingsley. Just what is the going rate now for a premium hit man? My brother doesn't want a half-ass job – it's got to be done right the FIRST time."

Smiling triumphantly, Carl and Benton looked at each other simultaneously, both thinking the same thing: _they had just hit a home run._

Kingsley fought desperately to stay calm. This was it – it was now or never to make this stick. Taking a breath first, he said, "That depends. I can give you the going rate, but your brother told me he would pay double for Kinney."

Prescott nodded, smirking. "Yeah, he really hates that son of a bitch. Thinks that's the main reason why he didn't wind up with his _Angel_, as he puts it. If I heard my brother say that word one more time, I would have taken the fucker out myself," he joked. "And there is no love lost between Lane and Sinclair, either," he added. "He wants them BOTH out the picture – for good. What will it take?" he asked pointedly.

Kingsley took a breath before divulging, "$50,000 for Sinclair to make sure I get the right man for the job. That will pay for the guy to get lost afterward and to make it look like an accident. $100,000 for Kinney. And your brother told me you would pay half up front, then the other half once it's done," he advised Prescott.

"Yeah, yeah, he told me," Aiden confirmed. "He's pretty bossy for someone who's cooped up in a jail cell," he remarked sarcastically. He was silent for a few seconds, contemplating the information before finally deciding, "Okay. I'll give you the $75,000 today - $25 for Sinclair and $50 for Kinney. But you tell the _lucky winning bidder_ that the extra amount for Kinney is to really make him squirm before he finishes him off. Lane wants that man to SUFFER, understood?"

Kingsley's ragged breathing almost betrayed his extreme nervousness; he willed his heartbeat to slow down before he confirmed, "Yeah, I understand. I'd like to see that arrogant SOB suffer, too," he confided in his companion. "Don't forget – he was responsible for me having to pay that ungodly fine for taking the fall for your brother's wiretapping."

"That's right, I had almost forgotten. Then you'll have a proper _incentive _for finding just the right man for the job. Or woman," he chuckled. "I'm not choosy, as long as whoever it is does it right and does NOT leave any clues who wanted it carried out. Although Kinney would most likely respond to a man, knowing his fucking sex drive," he added conspiratorily.

"I understand," Kingsley verified, perfecting a fake smile as if in agreement while at the same time fervently hoping his little acting performance was soon going to come to an end.

"Good. Than once this nasty business is finished, I can wipe my hands clean entirely of my dear, _departed_ brother, and never again have to worry about his meddling. After this is over, he can ROT in that fucking prison for all I care. It will be a small price to pay from his millions to get him out of my hair, and out of our father's business." Kingsley watched as Prescott leaned over and pulled out a small drawer in the adjacent side table; reaching inside to retrieve a large brown envelope, he opened it up and counted out several, rubber-banded packs of currency and handed them to the wiry man. To Kingsley's immense relief, Prescott then finally stood up, his now empty glass in his hand. "And now if you'll excuse me, Mr. Kingsley, I'm going to refill my drink. I think our business is at an end for the day, don't you? Besides, you have some recruiting to do. I'll expect a call with all the details as soon as you find the right _candidate_," he advised, reaching out to shake the detective's clammy hand. "Just don't fuck it up, understand?"

"I'll be in touch," Kingsley managed to sputter, before he controlled his nerves long enough to open the door and walk out. Once he closed the door behind him, the silence of the hallway greeted him. Only the sound of his rapidly-beating heart and his loud sigh of relief could be heard over the hidden wire as he slowly but purposefully strode toward the elevators and away from the tense melodrama that had just played out.

Not being able to control his jubilation, Horvath clapped Benton on the back before getting back to business. "How long before you have the video and audio on a DVD?" he asked the tech expert.

"Give me about an hour – I'll make a copy for you and for the prosecutor's office," he advised the policeman. "It'll be done in plenty of time for your appointment this afternoon," he assured Carl.

Nodding in satisfaction, Carl flipped open his phone to call an anxiously-waiting Matthews. "Kingsley just left the hotel." He reported. "We got him," was all Carl had to say before Matthews let out a whoop. "I'll see you at 2:00."

"Carl – I can't wait to see it. This will be the most satisfying movie I've ever watched," Matthews answered.

"Trust me – after you see it, you'll want to give Kingsley an Oscar yourself. I didn't really think Barney Fife had it in him," he laughed, now relieved it was over and they had been successful. "But they say it's the quiet ones you have to watch."

"Well, give the little man a cigar. I wasn't sure he had it in him, either," Matthews admitted. "But I'm sure as hell glad he did." Glancing at the clock, Matthews noted it was almost 12:30. "I'm going to run out and get some lunch before we meet. But do me a favor," he asked. "Guard that footage with your life in the meantime, okay?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere until this footage is safely on a DVD," he vowed. "I've got a girlfriend who's going to enjoy this movie immensely, too."

"We all will, Carl," Matthew replied before hanging up. "We all will."


	38. Chapter 38: Honeymoon on Mykonos

_Near Mykonos, Greece_

The emotion that is known as fascination can manifest itself in so many ways – the fascination a baby holds for a noise-making toy; the fascination a cat shows toward a goldfish in a bowl; the fascination of a teenage boy for the latest video game. But at that moment, none of those examples could come anywhere near the fascination a certain blond-haired, blue eyed man held as he stared, absolutely transfixed, at the approaching island of Mykonos. And as Justin continued to peer over the ship's railing, mesmerized by the jagged cliffs and the bright white, sand-washed buildings, Brian found himself fascinated by watching his husband's reaction. The artist's blue eyes absolutely sparkled with wonder and a smile appeared permanently affixed to his face as he tried to soak everything in. Finally, he pulled himself away briefly from the scenery as Brian walked over and placed his arm around the slender body.

"Brian," the blonde exclaimed breathlessly. "This…..this is _incredible._ I can't WAIT to get my sketchbook out and start drawing EVERYTHING!" Frowning slightly, he added, "I wish I had my sketchbook _right now_ – SHIT!" His pink lips pursed into a small pout as he unconsciously flexed his fingers, itching to draw _something_, _anything, EVERYTHING._ He had packed his sketchbook in his luggage and hadn't had a chance yet to retrieve it.

Brian thought his husband had never looked more adorable than at that moment; of course, he might be just a _little bit_ prejudiced when it came to Justin……._nah._

Wrapping his arm more tightly around the slim, pale shoulder, he leaned down to plant a small kiss on Justin's cheek and whisper in his ear. "You just make sure you keep a LOT of time open for _other_ activities, Sunshine. Like fucking, and fucking, and fucking…."

"Brian," Justin murmured, inexplicably a little embarrassed, as a slight blush appeared on his face. He wasn't sure why he was blushing at the brunet's statement; it's not like they didn't engage in that _activity_ on a frequent basis….hell, MORE than a frequent basis. But maybe it had to do with the fact that they had done it bareback now. _Oh, my God_….Justin felt himself flush just at the thought of their wedding night. That experience hadn't been anywhere near what either man had imagined it would be. It had been so much MORE; more intense, and so much more intimate.

As if he were reading Justin's thoughts, Brian softly added in a husky voice that only Justin could hear, "You know after last night I've become downright fucking _insatiable_ now when it comes to you."

"And you weren't _before_?" Justin smirked.

"Well, let's just say the incredible feeling before has been eclipsed by an _indescribable_ feeling NOW."

Justin smiled, reminding him, "You DID promise me we would take a tour of the island, remember? It's going to be hard to do that if we spend every available hour in bed."

"Oh, it's going to be _hard_, all right," Brian verified as he raised his eyebrows and looked down, causing Justin to laugh softly. "It's ALREADY _hard._" Placing his hand over the pale one placed on the ship's railing, he tried to move it down to a more _pleasurable_ target to prove his point, but Justin snatched it away, causing the brunet to emit a soft groan. "Brian! Jeez. You really meant it when you said _insatiable._"

"I always mean what I say, Sunshine."

"Good. Because I'm ready to start my tour," Justin replied, biting his bottom lip in excitement like a kid in a candy store. Brian simply shook his head and smiled, unable to fight the contagious happiness the man he loved was feeling as the blond looked at him and beamed. "Little twat," he muttered, before he moved behind the other man and slid his hands around the slender waist. Justin leaned back into him and overlapped his arms around the brunet's. As the sun rose directly above them, it caught the matching platinum bands in its rays, two glistening testaments to their devotion to each other.

"Tell me about where we're staying," Justin prodded. Brian had been extremely mysterious about their accommodations, just telling him it would be "perfect."

But Brian was not going to elaborate. "Uh, uh, uh, Sunshine," he chided. "You'll just have to wait a little longer," he advised, slightly rocking the other man in his arms.

"Bri-an," he pouted, as he turned slightly to look up into the hazel eyes. "Can't you at least give me a hint?" he purred.

Brian couldn't help sweeping down to give those full lips a quick peck. "Nope," he verified, receiving a stuck out, little pink tongue in return. He grinned. "Mature as always," he scolded. He could feel Justin literally bouncing on his feet lightly, he was so excited. "So impatient, too," the brunet observed.

"Looks who's talking?" Justin muttered. He felt the other man giving him a tight squeeze in reply.

"You're right, Sunshine…..I'm VERY impatient," He verified.

Turning around in the other man's arms to face him, Justin soothed, "Easy there, tiger. You give me a tour now, and I'll take you on a _tour_ later."

"It'd better be a _world-class _tour, Sunshine," he warned mockingly.

"First class all the way, Mr. Kinney," the blond assured him. "First we'll start with a little foray into your _nether regions_," he instructed, running a slim hand through the brunet's soft, windswept hair, "then a little stop at the two delightful peaks of Mt. Kinney," he added, lightly rubbing both hands now over the other man's nipples in small circles. As his hands roamed lower to reach under the brunet's white linen wife beater and caress the skin around his husband's navel, he advised solemnly, "Then we'll wander around the area known as the _belly of the beast_." As Brian snorted, Justin continued. "Next, we'll take a leisurely excursion down to the wild _bush region_ _of Tremont_." Brian thought he was finally getting somewhere, as Justin teasingly slipped his slender hands briefly inside the front of the other man's pants, before he pulled them out, to the brunet's great disappointment. Justin smiled. "On second thought, we might have to leave the best part of the trip for later…..when we're alone_._ Some parts of the trip are best enjoyed _privately_. I'll be expecting a big payout for _that_ part of the tour."

Brian sneered. "Don't worry, Sunshine, I'm sure it will be well worth the price of admission."

"For you or for me?" the blond asked impertinently. Brian managed to lightly slap one of the pale, slender arms presently resting at his waist before he heard the PA announcer stating they would be arriving shortly at the harbor area for disembarking. At the verification of their imminent arrival, all thoughts of their later _excursion_ were quickly shoved to the back of Justin's mind as he pulled a somewhat amused Brian by the hand toward the front of the ship to get a closer glimpse of their destination.

"This is so quaint!" Justin exclaimed, his entire face alit with excitement again, as he gazed upon the dozens of boats of all types and sizes moored in the marina.

"Nice to know no matter where you go, they always have pelicans," Brian muttered as he observed a large, long-billed white bird waddling around the labyrinthine, sun-worn wooden structure.

"That's Petros!" Justin cried, excited. "I read about him in the brochure; he was originally named back in the 1950s when a group of pelicans flew over the island and he was too weak to go with them. The locals nursed him back to health. When he went to _bird heaven_, they found a replacement for him. Apparently there've been several Petros since then. He's kind of like their mascot," Justin explained. "Shit! I've got to get a drawing of him around all the boats here."

Brian rolled his eyes. "My own personal little travel guide…..Don't even think about it. We are NOT getting close to that….thing," he advised sternly. "There's no telling what type of fucking germs that _fowl_ carries. Just think what he's had in his mouth."

"I'm sure many have said the same thing about you, too, and YOU turned out okay," Justin pointed out teasingly, grinning, as he pursed his lips together to keep from laughing out loud.

Brian twisted his face. "Very funny, Sunshine." As the boat slowed to dock, he took Justin's hand. "Maybe if I'm a good boy, they'll throw me a fish once we get on land." As Justin laughed now, he added as he held his other hand out wide, "I'm ready to experience……..the wonders of Mykonos. And get my _land legs _back again. Let's go line up for our luggage."

Several minutes later, they finally had their suitcases wheeling along behind them as they walked the few hundred yards to a white, stone-washed squat building with a sign that read in English as well as in Greek, _Mykonos Rainbow Tours._ As they entered the interior, a dark-haired, middle-aged man greeted them from a low-slung wooden desk with a distinctive accent, thankfully with an intelligible version of English, also. "My name is Angelo. I am the owner. May I help you gentlemen?"

Brian walked over to the other man. "Yes, I have reservations under _Kinney_."

The somewhat pudgy man looked at the desktop monitor and lightly punched a few keys. Grinning widely, he stated, "Ah, yes, the _honeymooners!_ I have everything arranged for you." Studying the two men, who were very distinctive individually by their differences but together were downright unforgettable in their contrasting light and dark features, he winked as he added enthusiastically, "Congratulations! I know you'll enjoy your stay here."

Fidgeting a little awkwardly at the other man's ebullience, Brian actually stammered a little as he answered, "Uh, thanks," as he accepted the dark-haired man's outstretched hand. Justin, who had walked over to stand next to the brunet, grinned a little at Brian's atypical nervous reaction. "Justin Taylor," he introduced himself, as he smiled at the Greek man, shaking hands and graciously accepting the shop owner's congratulations.

After receiving Brian's signature on several contract forms, Angelo reached behind him and pulled a set of keys off a hook on the wall. Handing them to the brunet along with a thick, white folder, he advised him, "Here are the keys to the Jeep and the villa. The jeep is right around the back of the building – just look for the matching number from the key. And this folder contains all the information you should need to make your stay enjoyable. My number is there if you need to contact me for any reason, along with all the tickets for your excursions."

Passing the folder over to Justin, he once again briefly shook hands with the owner. "Thanks," he once again replied, nodding to the man. "Come on, Mr. Taylor. It's time to start our _tour_," he drawled, taking the blond's hand and leading him out the door as Justin gave the Greek man a little wave before leaving.

Walking a short distance around to the rear of the building, Justin was the first one to find their Jeep. It was quite similar to Brian's old Jeep, but unlike his, this one was a candy-apple red. "Well, at least you shouldn't have any problem driving this vehicle," Justin observed, as they loaded their luggage into the back.

"These are mainly what they use to get around here, Sunshine. Unless you want to revert back to the old mode of transportation they USED to use."

"Old mode of transportation?" Justin asked curiously. "What was _that?_"

"Jackasses. Kind of reminds me of you," Brian said, lips curling under as he briefly received another _mature_ expression from Justin in the form of a middle raised finger. "But I wouldn't want your delicate, bubble butt to get calluses just as it's about to get the workout of its _life_," he added earnestly, noticing out of the corner of his eye the blond rolling his eyes.

"I don't think we'll need a donkey for that," Justin managed to say out loud, just as they hit a fairly deep pothole that briefly pitched them abruptly out of their seats as if they were in the rear seat of a scary roller coaster ride. "I think I'll join the 85% of people who use their seatbelts," he quickly decided, latching his seatbelt as they hit another, less intense pothole.

"Good idea," Brian decided, as he, too, reached over to pull his seatbelt across his lap and fasten it with one hand. Stealing a quick glance over at his husband, he asked, "Justin? Can you pull the map out and see if you can give me an idea where we need to go for our villa?

The blond opened up the folder to take out the packet listing their accommodations. "Is this the one?" he asked. "Suncatcher?"

"Yeah, that's it," Brian verified, hoping it didn't show any photos of their vacation home. He really wanted to surprise Justin with it in person. If it was half as good as the photos made it out to be on the website he viewed, the blond should be thrilled. _Both_ of them should be thrilled. It promised to be spectacular – in its opulence, privacy and views of the Aegean. He couldn't wait to see Justin's reaction to it.

Fortunately, Justin proved to be very adept at giving Brian directions, because they managed to drive the approximately 30-minute route with only minor, unintentional detours, before finally locating the road to their villa.

"We're really climbing now," Justin observed, as they kept winding and winding around a small, narrow gravel road. It seemed like forever, but Justin knew the tallest peak in Mykonos was only approximately 1,000 feet above sea level.

On the way to their villa, they passed low-lying structures on both sides of the road, all made of the same white sandy building material so prevalent on the island. Finally, they came to a fork in the road with two, simple, wooden, light gray signs that had numbers on them, one of which was the number of their rental villa. "That way," Justin pointed out, as Brian took a right turn in the direction of their accommodations.

Once they turned at the fork in the road, they noticed there were no more structures on either side, only white sandy terrain and scrub vegetation. Finally, as they turned in a bend of the road, both men gasped at the sight directly in front of them. At the dead end of the road stood a large, two-story, elegantly appointed villa made of white sand and rock. The wide, rectangular windows surrounded the home on all sides and the right side of the villa contained an open, covered veranda.

"Brian," Justin whispered in awe as the brunet slowed the Jeep and parked it in a carport beside the residence. "It's beautiful." He barely waited for Brian to stop the vehicle before he eagerly opened the car door and jumped out. "Let's go take a look!" he exclaimed, as he ran over and grabbed Brian's hand as soon as he emerged from the driver's side. "Where's the key?" Justin demanded impatiently.

"Hang on there, Sunshine," Brian replied, laughing softly at the other man's excitement. "I've got it right here," he assured the blond, as he impulsively decided to let the other man explore. Handing the key over to him, he said, "Go on – open the door." Justin didn't need any more encouragement, as he grabbed the key from Brian's hand and ran up the short entry steps to the front door. Brian arrived at the doorstop just seconds before Justin pushed the key in and turned the doorknob to enter, swinging the door open just a little.

As Justin strangely hesitated before entering, Brian asked him, puzzled, "What?" before he saw a mischievous gleam appear in the blue eyes.

"First things first," Justin replied. "Bend over," he demanded.

"_Here_, Sunshine? NOW who's impatient? Can't you at least wait until we get inside the door?" he smirked, although right here, right now would have been fine with him, since he'd literally been waiting _hours_ to fuck his husband senseless again.

"Just bend over, will you?" Justin repeated, as if he were scolding an unruly child. Wondering what in the hell the younger man was up to, Brian nevertheless decided to humor him, at least for the time being, and dutifully bent over at the waist.

Brian's guess as to Justin's apparently lascivious intentions was soon proven to be wrong as the blond instead bent down, also, and, grunting under his burden, managed somehow to lift Brian off his feet and sling the heavier man's upper body over his slight shoulders in a clumsy fireman's carry before he slowly dragged him over the _threshold_.

Of course, he only managed to succeed in doing it for perhaps a foot or two before, breathing heavily, he quickly dropped his burden none too gently on the marble-tiled floor, as Brian landed squarely on his ass.

"Ouch! That _fucking_ HURT, Justin!" the man scowled, reaching behind him to rub the injured part of his anatomy.

"Poor baby," Justin soothed none too sincerely. "Don't worry. Hubby will rub it and kiss it to make it all better."

"Hubby sure as fucking _will_," Brian growled. "And it better be SOON," he warned, before he slowly and stiffly rose from the hard floor with help from his not-so-contrite husband.

Now that the ceremonial part of their ritual had been carried out, they were able to take stock of the inside of the villa. Their mock bickering was quickly abandoned as they stared at the interior. The entire white marbled floor consisted of a wide, open expanse for the kitchen/living room areas; a wall of windows paired in the center with a set of double, leaded glass French doors led out to the large, covered cabana and the entire room was bathed in bright sunlight.

"Wow!" was all Justin could manage to say, as he walked quickly over to the French doors and threw them open. The salty smell and the sounds of seagulls assailed his senses as soon as he stepped out onto the stone floor of the cabana, set up with two, side-by-side generous chaise lounges pointing toward a sparkling, blue infinity pool that seemed to go on forever, seemingly all the way out to the sea, which surged several miles below, white crests of waves visible from their panoramic vantage point high above. A curved, fully-stocked bar sat in a corner of the outdoor entertainment area surrounded by wood-topped bar stools.

Brian followed shortly behind him as he, too, was greeted by the unmistakable smell of the sea below. He was relieved to see that the villa appeared to be everything he had hoped for, and more. The luxurious appointments evident everywhere were of the highest quality and comfort. _Just perfect for fucking a certain blond from here to kingdom come._

He walked over to that particular blond now, who was standing at the edge of the cabana, looking down at the incredible view of the Aegean Sea far below, ringed by the white sandstone buildings of all shapes and sizes. Boats mingled in the sea and surrounded the harbor, and the nearby historic island of Delos rose nearby like a giant mythological sea serpent.

Standing directly behind Justin, Brian slipped his arms around the other man's waist, pulling him close. "So what do you think of Mykonos so far, Sunshine?" he asked softly, as he bent his head down to nuzzle the pale neck and soft hair at his nape.

Justin placed his hands over Brian's and leaned back as the brunet's hold tightened even more in a possessive movement. "Brian……I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life," he whispered. "This is absolutely _stunning_," he declared, awestruck.

"The sun should be setting soon," Brian advised him. "It should be spectacular from up here." Turning the blond around now but still holding him in his arms, he encouraged him, asking, "Why don't you go get your sketchbook so you'll have it ready? I'm sure you'll want to make some sketches of it."

Justin smiled tenderly at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. Shaking his head slightly, he decided, "I can sketch it some other time. Right now I just want to watch it. _With you_." Brian smiled in return as he leaned down to kiss the full lips, their tentative kiss becoming more urgent as it deepened quickly. The brunet reluctantly pulled back slightly after several seconds to gently turn the other man around so he would not miss what would surely be one of the most beautiful sunsets they had ever witnessed together.

"Brian?" he heard Justin ask softly.

"What, Sunshine?" Brian whispered gently, once again holding the other man against him as he rested his head on top of the soft, blond hair.

The rapidly setting sun began to bath them in vibrant shades of orange and gold.

"I'm so happy……I love you." He sighed in contentment as he sniffled slightly. _Damn allergies._

Brian smiled, lips curling under and eyes clouding up at the lump that unexpectedly appeared in his throat. It was a few seconds before he was able to reply without fear of his voice giving the depth of his feelings away, but it really didn't matter. He knew Justin could hear it anyway. "I love you, too, baby."


	39. Chapter 39: Endings & Beginnings

_Earlier the Same Day – Pittsburgh – 2:00 p.m._

"Gentlemen, have a seat." Greg Matthews ushered the group into his inner office: Settlemeyer and Kingsley took a seat next to Horvath, and Carl's tech whiz, Benton, who had arrived approximately 30 minutes earlier to go over the camera footage and audio recordings of Kingsley's performance.

Greg immediately noticed Kingsley's nervous demeanor and sweaty skin, even several hours after his encounter with Prescott's twin brother, Aiden. Boy, was THAT a surprise – nowhere in Matthew's preliminary background check had it mentioned that Lane Prescott had a TWIN brother. He about lost his lunch literally when he saw the first images of the man's brother being broadcast courtesy of Kingsley's hidden camera. The two dressed and sounded so much alike that he would have sworn Prescott had somehow gotten out of jail had he not been certain that was not the case.

As Settlemeyer and Kingsley looked expectantly at the prosecutor, he confirmed what they were hoping to hear. He smiled as he verified, "The camera and audio recorder worked perfectly. We were able to clearly determine what both of you were saying." Turning to Settlemeyer, he added, "I have learned to normally not go out on a limb prematurely, but I think I can say with confidence that with this evidence, along with the video visitor's log from the prison and your client's testimony, I think we've got an open and shut case here against _both_ brothers."

Kingsley sighed in relief and Settlemeyer nodded in satisfaction. "I do have one request, however," Settlemeyer pressed. At Matthews' suspicious look, he assured the other man, "My client is fully prepared to testify against both brothers and fulfill his part of the immunity agreement; but I think you can understand why he is requesting some sort of protection until this issue is able to go to trial. No doubt Prescott's reach is a lot farther than his prison walls. We've seen that with his brother being involved. I'm sure we have a mutual wish to make sure my client lives long enough to testify against them, and I don't feel he's safe roaming around on his own until then. Besides, you are already providing protection for Sinclair," the attorney pointed out.

"There's a little bit of a difference, there, Settlemeyer," Matthews pointed out. "Prescott has already made no bones about his wish to have both Sinclair and Brian Kinney killed."

"I understand, but obviously once word gets out that both Prescott brothers are being indicted and charged with attempted murder, they will know immediately what happened….and WHO was responsible for it." Kingsley fidgeted nervously in his nearby chair, wiping his forehead occasionally with a handkerchief.

Greg looked over to Carl for a response. "As much as it pains me to say it, I think he has a point," he admitted. There was no love lost between Carl and the attorney, or his detective client, both of whom were not exactly pillars of the community when it came to ethical behavior. "I think it would be wise. I actually agree – I think it would be too risky to have Kingsley exposed to possible repercussions until we know for sure that both Prescott brothers are locked up for good." After a few seconds of thought, he continued. "I think I can arrange for the Pittsburgh PD to hole him up at a secret location with at least a small, around-the-clock police unit until the two brothers are confined where they can't do any harm. If that means keeping Kingsley somewhere until the actual trial, I think the police commissioner will agree that the benefits will outweigh the cost involved."

Matthews sat back in his chair, pensive, fingers steepled at his mouth. "Okay," he said finally. "You have a deal. But we will have an addendum drawn up that stipulates he is to be provided around-the-clock protection ONLY in exchange for him continuing to cooperate fully with my office in every aspect of his agreement. Understood?"

Settlemeyer looked over at his client, who shakily nodded. "Understood," the attorney confirmed, standing up to shake hands with the prosecutor to consummate the deal. "Call me when the paperwork is done and I'll see that my client returns to sign it. I assume in the meantime, though, his protection will start immediately?" He peered at the policeman for verification.

Carl nodded. "I'll temporarily authorize the police unit for immediate use until I get the formal okay from the police commissioner. I'll personally see that Kingsley is escorted back to his apartment to gather up what he needs for his new home away from home until the trial begins. If you gentlemen will come with me?" he asked, standing up to follow them out.

"Thanks, Carl," Matthews called out as Carl nodded in reply.

_Two more weeks_, Matthews noted. That was how much longer Brian had told him he and Justin would be gone on their vacation. He had no doubt they would be in for the shock of their lives when they returned and found out what had happened. In the meantime, however, Greg was determined not to let this unsettling development spoil their much-needed time away together; there would be time for revelations later when they returned. In the meantime, the prosecutor silently hoped they were having a great time – after what they had gone through this past year, they certainly deserved it.

* * *

_Mykonos – Next Morning_

Justin was having the most delicious dream; he was imagining he was on an island, abundant with mangos and bananas, shipwrecked with just the necessities – his sketchpad and pencils, a little sun block with a high PF factor, some lube, and most importantly, a sexy brunet who just happened to be his husband. What more could a red-blooded, American male want? It seemed so real – he could even feel Brian's long, elegant hands roaming all over his body, which was definitely responding rapidly to his vivid imagination. Only, as he slowly came out of his sleepy state, he gradually realized his dream was still delicious, but it wasn't a dream. At least the part about the sexy brunet, who was currently doing a little skin diving on his chest and getting ready to submerge even further toward more _abundant_ waters.

"Mmmm."

Brian smirked as he momentarily looked up at his partner uttering a totally nonsensical groan. "I see somebody's finally _up_," he drawled softly, as his hand reached out and wrapped itself around the blond's cock. "About _fucking_ time. It's not nearly as satisfying when someone's sleeping through my overtures."

"_Overtures_? My, aren't we getting downright lingual now," Justin observed.

"I'll show you _lingual_," Brian growled; Justin literally arched off the king-size bed as a warm and very wet tongue licked the underside of his cock and traveled above _sea level _to thoroughly coat the top; his husband decided a little nip of the teeth was in order, also, as he lightly bit down on the tip before soothing it with another quick lick.

"Fuck, Brian!" Justin cried, as he heard a downright evil chuckle from the brunet. "You certainly know how to wake someone up," he added, as he continued to squirm under his husband's roving hands and busy tongue.

"So you like my bedside manner, Sunshine?" he asked, the hazel eyes twinkling as he looked up through the long lashes to gaze at the blond.

"_Very_ professional, Mr. Kinney. If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd been in practice for a very long time."

Brian snorted. "You got _that_ right, Sunshine. Only until I met my match, it was just a warm up rehearsal. You're the fucking _opening night_. And I'd say it's time to open up right now."

Justin giggled and then gasped as he felt Brian's warm hands grasping his thighs and gently pulling his legs apart. "Brian! You already had _three_ around-the-world tours last _night_!" he managed to say, albeit his attempt at a feeble protest came out as more like a breathy moan as he felt first one, then two probing fingers. "You promised me a _land _tour, remember? _Outside_ our bed – around the island? Does that ring any bells, Mr. Kinney?"

"Sure it does, Sunshine…._after _your encore." Justin laughed; never being able to say no to this voracious, sexy man, Justin's head fell back down on the pillow as he indulged himself in a little tousling of Brian's soft, auburn hair; he decided he could definitely be gracious about his situation and _endure_ another round of sightseeing in their bed before getting a chance to see what other exciting vistas Mykonos had to offer.

* * *

Two hours later, after stopping to revisit all _ports of call_ on the good ship Kinney, Justin's wish was granted as the two of them drove back down into the main area of the island.

"Anything in particular you want to do today, Sunshine?" Brian asked. "After all, I got MY wish granted – I guess it's only fair we do something _you_ want to do now."

"That's very _big_ of you, Mr. Kinney," Justin teased.

Brian reached over to place Justin's hand on his crotch. "VERY big," he agreed, eyebrows rising.

Justin rolled his eyes. "Well……I was thinking……Don't even _say_ it, Kinney!" Brian curled his lips under to keep from laughing as he raptly watched Justin's eyes sparkle. _You always DID have the most beautiful eyes, Sunshine._ "I would like to just park the Jeep somewhere and walk around the town and play tourist for a while. You know, check out some of the shops and the restaurants, maybe walk down to the marina….."

"Take your sketchbook out and draw the whole fucking island, maybe?" Brian finished.

Justin smiled. "Yeah, maybe," he admitted. "Would you mind?"

Brian looked over at him. "No, I wouldn't mind," he assured him, returning the blond's smile. "Whatever you want to do today, Sunshine. Just remember, _tonight_ that body is _mine."_

"I think that can be arranged, Mr. Kinney," Justin replied, reaching over to squeeze the other man's thigh briefly. As Brian tried to reciprocate by reaching his hand over toward a more _central _target, Justin playfully slapped his hand away. "_Later. _You said _tonight,"_ he reminded the other man.

"Oh, I'm sure somewhere in the world it's _already_ night time."

"Nice try, Kinney……"

"Fuck."

* * *

They found a centrally-located parking spot in the heart of town; Brian watched amused as Justin literally bounded out of the Jeep and impatiently ran around to the driver's side to pull the brunet out. "Out!" he simply demanded. Looking around to try and get his bearings, he added, "I'm sure there's a breakfast place here _somewhere_."

"Of course. Some things _never_ change," Brian smirked.

"Well, don't just _stand_ there looking _pretty_!" Justin demanded, taking Brian's hand and tugging him toward an interesting group of sandstone buildings. "My stomach's growling! Fuck! I wonder what they even _eat_ for breakfast around here! I've heard of Greek yogurt – I imagine they have some type of tropical fruit – do you think that's all? At least _you'll _be happy! Surely they eat some type of _meat_ for breakfast, don't you think?"

"I think I'm getting dizzy," Brian retorted, as Justin gave him another slap, this time on his Prada-covered butt. "Hey – watch it, twat! This outfit cost me a fucking _mint_!"

Justin rolled his eyes. "Well, get your expensive little ass in _gear_, then!" Spying a combination indoor/outdoor cafe directly ahead, he sped up his pace with Brian holding on for dear life. "Ooh! _THAT'S_ the one! Let's go!"

A light sea breeze had picked up in the last hour, making the mid-morning temperature very pleasant and adding to the tropical ambiance. Tall, thick royal palm trees ringed the outdoor tables and chairs, which were currently occupied by several apparently gay and straight couples enjoying their morning repast.

"Well, at least they have coffee," Brian observed, as they walked up to the reservation station located directly beside the front entrance; as he indicated a table for two, the dark-haired host nodded and led them to a small, circular table situated in a corner and located within a few feet of the quaint, cobble-stoned walkway. The tables were each set with a bright, white cotton tablecloth, a bud vase with a single, red rose, and tall, crystal water goblets. There were several lush hanging plants strung from the wooden trellis being used for a roof, with dense, flowering bougainvillea serving as more than adequate shade for the restaurant patrons. Even though it was presently full of casually-dressed locals and tourists, the café was dressed in an upscale décor.

As they sat down at the table, and Justin, aka the blond dynamo, was finally occupied with looking over the menu, Brian had a chance to notice some of the other scenery. The island's abundance of large rocks had been put to good use; all the narrow pathways were ringed with the same cobblestones that were embedded in the walkway directly in front of their table. The numerous buildings housing restaurants, shops, and apartments were of various shapes and sizes but all constructed of either sandstone, rock or a combination of both. White was the predominant color, no doubt used to great advantage during the more humid, higher-temperature months to maximize comfort.

Brian looked with amusement at his husband, who was practically engrossed now in the menu choices. "Well, Sunshine, see anything you like? I know how much you like _meat_."

"Ha, ha, that's rich. Well, Mr. _King of the Low Carb Dynasty, _you'll be glad to know we can BOTH be satisfied at this restaurant."

"Satisfaction is my middle name, Sunshine," the brunet assured him, getting a snort in return. "So what's it going to be, Mr. Taylor?" he asked as he finally took a glance at his own menu. He was impressed to find there were actually several healthy food choices listed, along with several other more cholesterol-clogging options for a certain blond's preferences.

"I think I'll be adventurous and try the t_yropita_ – that's cheese pie to you more _uncultured_ yokels," he joked.

"Thanks for the translation, twat," Brian retorted, quickly flicking a middle finger at his husband, who chuckled back at him. "It sure was Greek to me."

Justin guffawed as the waiter approached for their order, sparing him from trying to come up with a suitable rejoinder. As they placed their order, he was grateful for the relatively small, intimate size of their table because it gave him a golden opportunity to reach over and grab his husband's hand and caress it softly. He heart beat faster as he received a tender smile in return.

He couldn't help commenting sincerely, "Brian, this is _so_ great. After everything we've been through this year, to be able to leave all those worries behind and explore some place we've never been to together– it's wonderful. And the villa you found for us – it's so incredible. Thank you, Mr. Kinney-Taylor."

Brian was almost lulled into a blissful state until that last part jolted him out of his musing. "_Excuse_ me? My ears must be playing tricks on me. I could have sworn you just called me _Mr. Kinney-TAYLOR._" I don't believe that was part of our marriage arrangement."

Justin smiled, as a little flash of pink tongue darted out to lick the full lower lip in mischief. "Don't worry – I was just checking to make sure you were listening to me. You know how it is – once you're past the newlywed stage, the couple just becomes so _stale_."

Brian huffed. "I don't think _stale_ will ever describe OUR relationship, Sunshine."

Justin grinned, agreeing. "No, I don't think so, either. In fact, I'm _counting_ on it," he added, as he loosened his grip on the brunet's hand to grip something else under the table, producing a quiet groan from its owner before he brought his hand back up to the table surface, just in time to reach for the freshly-squeezed orange juice placed in front of him.

Brian smirked as he sniffed the strongly-brewed Greek coffee in the heavy beige mug sitting next to his water goblet. "Ah," he said in appreciation, as he took a small sip. "Now _that's_ a cup of coffee. None of that fucking week-old shit they try to serve at the diner."

Soon after their drinks were served, the waiter returned with their meals: Greek yogurt with honey and two pieces of toasted whole wheat bread for Brian, and a large, stuffed piece of tyropita for Justin, along with two hard-boiled eggs and crusty, thick-sliced homemade bread with butter and jam.

"No meat, Sunshine?" Brian inquired, as he noticed the blond practically inhaling the tyropita.

"I didn't see any on the menu," Justin answered truthfully. "Besides, I figured I'd get plenty of _meat _later tonight," he teased.

"Smart boy," Brian drawled, lips curling under adoringly. "Better to save your energy for later. We haven't visited all seven continents yet."

"Oh, I _knew_ there was a reason I was conserving my strength."

Brian grinned as he took a bigger sip of his coffee. He decided to pick up some of the same blend at whatever the fuck equated to a grocery store on the island so he could enjoy some first thing in the morning before his regular _high protein snack_, that is. Justin typically slept in later than Brian, which was fine with him. After all, it allowed Brian to engage in one of his favorite pastimes like he did this morning – skin diving. Speaking of which…..

"Sunshine? After breakfast, how would you like to walk down to the beach and do some snorkeling?"

Justin's eyes shone with excitement. "Shit, yeah!" he cried, the radiant trademark smile beaming on his face like someone about to ride a rollercoaster for the first time.

His smile was contagious as Brian grinned. "Well, hurry up and gulp down the rest of your food then, Sunshine, because we're about to go swimming with the fishes."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," Justin decided. "That's probably what they said to Jimmy Hoffa, too, just before he became a permanent goalpost at Giants Stadium. Are you sure you're not just after my money after all?"

Brian snorted. "Not too _fucking_ likely. More like your tight little ass."

"Oh, I feel better then."

As the waiter returned a few minutes later with Brian's credit card and their receipt, they both rose to leave for the next part of their adventure. Brian took advantage of their closeness to reach his hand over and cup Justin's cheek gently. Justin smiled at him tenderly as Brian planted a soft kiss on his husband's lips. Holding hands as they walked out of the café, Brian leaned over and whispered, "By the way, _Mr. Taylor-Kinney_, I love you, you know."

Justin beamed as he replied, "You keep saying that, and you can call me _anything you want._"


	40. Chapter 40: Fancy Footwork

_New York City – the next day_

Sylvia Broadwell was used to a constantly-evolving variety of business associates coming in and out of her boss' office; however, the three men striding toward her with a distinctly formal air was a new experience for her, mainly because she noticed, puzzled, that two of them were wearing policeman uniforms.

"May I help you?" she found herself asking somewhat nervously; after all, it wasn't every day police officers walked into Prescott Enterprises' corporate offices.

As one of the uniformed men flipped open a slim, black leather cardholder, she noticed a shiny, brass badge nestled inside, along with an officially-looking ID. The tallest and broadest of the three men announced, "I'm Detective Kenilworth of the New York City 14th Police District." Nodding to the other two men next to him, he added, "These are my associates, Detective Ramsey and Detective Horvath. We're here to see Aiden Prescott," he advised seriously.

Sylvia was normally a formidable person to be reckoned with; she had been working for the Prescott brothers for over 10 years now, having worked her way up from the ranks of the secretarial pool. Anyone who wanted to get to either Prescott brother knew they had to go through her first. But something told her at that moment that this was not going to be an ordinary day, and these men were not here on some type of charity drive. Swallowing a little before replying, she hesitated whether to have them wait to be announced before showing them to the executive office suite. She was spared solving the dilemma when the man who introduced himself as Detective Kenilworth spoke again. "Ms….uh?"

"Broadwell," the woman supplied, peering up at them from her desk.

"Ms. Broadwell. We need to see Aiden Prescott_ now_. I trust you will not deter us any further?" he asked professionally; no need to strong arm this woman unless absolutely necessary, but the three men were NOT leaving until they found who they were looking for.

Sylvia bit her lower lip, trying to decide what to do. These were policemen after all, and despite her tough exterior on the outside, she was always taught to respect the law; one could get into a lot of trouble if they didn't. Making up her mind now, she stood and lightly tried to undo the creases that had appeared on her skirt before advising, "If you gentlemen will please follow me, I'll take you to see him."

Kenilworth nodded satisfactorily to his two colleagues as they followed the assistant down a long, thick-carpeted hallway ringed with several offices until she came to a solid mahogany door at the end. Rapping on the door a few times, she waited a few seconds until she heard a familiar, authoritative voice instructing her to enter before she turned the handle and opened it.

"Yes?" the three men heard an authoritative voice that to Carl sounded eerily like another one he had heard before and had hoped to _never_ hear again.

Uncharacteristically tense, the assistant pushed the door open and announced to her boss, "These men are here to see you, sir." Aiden Prescott looked up as the men entered and gulped as he instantly recognized the police uniforms.

He tried to hide his distinct unease as he stood up to greet them, plastering on a fake smile. "Gentlemen? What can I do for you? Coffee?" He started to advise Sylvia to take their orders before he was interrupted by Carl, who, due to his familiarity with the case, had been appointed the spokesmen for the trio.

"This isn't a _social call_," he advised promptly, unable to keep the distaste out of his voice. He did not have any sympathy or politeness for someone as disgusting as this man – or his brother, for that matter.

Sylvia watched from the doorway, transfixed, as Prescott's attempt at insincere cordiality instantly evaporated and his smile disappeared to be replaced with a look resembling a sneer. He stood defiantly facing the others, not even offering the other men a chair, as he growled, "Well, why we don't just cut to the chase, then? What the fuck do you want?"

_If that's the way you want to play it, you son of a bitch, so be it._ "Aiden Prescott, we have an warrant for your arrest."

The other man sputtered, indignant, as he protested incredulously. "For _what_?!"

"For the attempted murder of Wyatt Sinclair and Brian Kinney." Turning to one of the other men, Carl instructed Kenilworth, "Read the man his rights," before he reached in his pocket and pulled out a pair of silver handcuffs.

"You're _out of your fucking mind!_" Prescott countered. "I want my attorney!" he demanded.

"Fine – you can see him at the police station," Carl retorted, as he none-too-gently reached for the man's hands and wrapped them around his back, deftly clicking the handcuffs into place before grasping one of Prescott's arms. "Read the man his rights," he repeated to the other detective, as Kenilworth began to recite the litany: "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you….."

Sylvia remained standing by the door, shocked. Just when she thought things were hopefully getting back to some semblance of normalcy after Lane's trial and conviction, _this_ happens. _Attempted murder?_ As she wondered what in the world had happened, she barely had time to dodge the group leaving her boss' office as he called out over her shoulder, "Call my fucking attorney and have him meet me at the police station. Now!" he barked. She managed a small nod in acknowledgement as other co-workers came out of their offices to see what the commotion was all about. Their looks of astonishment mirrored hers as the current head of Prescott Sportswear was led down the hallway and out the door in handcuffs.

* * *

_Same Day, Mid-Morning – Mykonos_

Brian lay on the plush chaise lounge out on the veranda, eyes peering out through his sunglasses at the crystal clear, foamy waters of the Aegean Sea far below as he sipped his icy drink. He and Justin had now been on Mykonos for three days, and so far, despite the fact that it would sound lesbionic if he said it out loud, even he had to admit it had been glorious. It was wonderful being far away from the events surrounding the recent trial and all the unpleasant publicity it had engendered. And it had been great to be able to rely on his loyal employees at Kinnetik to keep things running smoothly while he was gone. But the most incredible part of all was having a certain blond by his side day and night and all to himself. That could never be surpassed by _anything_ else, except maybe for the wonder of growing more and more deeply in love with his sexy husband by the hour.

He laughed as the subject of his thoughts appeared at his side; Justin was wearing a sky-blue, skin-tight swim brief that left nothing to the imagination. It actually matched the one that Brian was currently wearing, except his was white, and Justin was wearing some additional accessories: a snorkeling mask covering his beautiful face, and a pair of rubber flippers on his feet. Despite Justin's ridiculous fashion statement, however, Brian realized both of them _were_ wearing something else identical: the same smiles and hard-ons.

Evidently Justin made the same observation, as his eyes appreciatively swept down the other man's lean, toned, and tanned body before he took off his mask and veered from his initial target of the adjacent chaise lounge to sit down on Brian's thighs, instead, to straddle and face the brunet. He leaned down to plant his lips on Brian's as the older man kissed him back eagerly; he took time briefly to place his drink down on the small glass table next to him before he reached both arms to rest at the blond's waist to steady him.

"Fuck, Brian!" Justin cried out.

"That's what I had in mind," Brian murmured as he smiled against the other man's lips. "That is, if you'll take those fucking dorky swim fins off first." Fortunately, Justin had at least placed his feet on the ground to either side of Brian; otherwise, the fins would have most likely been in Brian's face at the moment.

"No, that's not what I meant," Justin chuckled, pushing back a little to break Brian's hold on him. "Your hand is like ice!" he said, pushing the offending limb from his waist. Brian felt Justin shiver a little at the unexpected chill against his exposed skin, which was still pale despite their time on the island; Justin's light skin burned so easily that he always had to use sun block.

"Well, you'd better just warm it up, then, Sunshine," he drawled, pulling back slightly to look at the blond and smiling tenderly. Justin couldn't help briefly recalling another time in the past when they had had this same kind of conversation. He internally breathed a sigh of relief that this time things were different; he knew Brian wouldn't turn down his attempts to do just that. He reached out and pulled the cool hand to his mouth and sucked on a couple of the long fingers, hearing a small moan of pleasure in return. He took his time slowly, as his hot, moist mouth thoroughly worshipped the other man's offering with his tongue and lips. As he grasped Brian's hand in his, his lips slowly drew the fingers in and out of his mouth in an obvious mimicking of _another_ activity the two of them had engaged in a couple of hours earlier in the huge, walk-in glass shower stall inside their villa.

Brian moaned louder, and Justin felt the brunet's cock grow even harder as he continued to lubricant the willing digits.

"Fuck, Justin!" Brian cried out; how this man could get him so turned on in just a few seconds of horseplay never ceased to amaze him.

Justin simply laughed with a type of evil smirk on his face as he finally released his hold on Brian's hand, which promptly returned to his original position at the blond's waist; Justin noticed this time, however, that the hand was considerably _warmer_ as well as _wetter._

"I hate to say it, Sunshine, but the fins kind of kill the moment for me," he teased, even though he knew Justin could see – and feel – that that was obviously NOT the case. "Why in the fuck are you wearing those, anyway? We went snorkeling _yesterday, _remember?"

"You never know when some _shark_ may approach for an attack," he answered, grinning. "Might need to ward off an assault."

"I'll show you an _assault,"_ Brian growled, as he used his leverage to pull Justin against his body as he heard a giggle emerge from his chest. Instead of the expectant nuzzling of his neck, roaming hands all over his body, and wriggling of the man's cock against his, however, Justin instead was "treated" to two busy hands furiously tickling him at just the spot around his waist that set him off into a serious round of giggles. "Brian!" he managed to cry out in between bouts of laughter. "No fair!"

As he heard his husband laugh out loud, Justin's heart surged. It was so good to simply hear Brian laugh; moments when Brian felt comfortable enough to respond verbally in that wonderful, playful way he had were few and far between, and were, therefore, always treasured by Justin. He loved to hear Brian laugh this way, because he knew the brunet was letting his guard down and was secure enough with him to do it. He heard Brian finally stop laughing enough to demand, "Remove the fucking flippers and you won't get hurt."

"Okay, okay," Justin laughed, as Brian grinned and stopped his torture, but kept his hands firmly planted on the blond's waist as he now caressed the same flesh he had just been tormenting. Justin used the other man's secure hold on him to reach down and remove the swim fins one by one, receiving another moan of pleasure as his cock _accidentally _rubbed up against Brian's as he did so.

"You little slut," Brian drawled as his hands unintentionally dug into Justin's side in response. "You did that on purpose," he accused him.

"Moi?" Justin answered innocently.

"YES," Brian retorted. "And now you will have to pay…….with your _ass_," he growled.

"Promises, promises….." He squirmed on the other man's lap, receiving another moan in return before licking his lips and smiling.

"Okay, Sunshine, if that's the way you want to play it…..You DID see _Jaws_, didn't you?" he asked. "Shark alert! Everybody out of the water!"

Justin squealed in delight as Brian suddenly stood up with him still in his arms; as Brian leaned down to plant a passionate kiss on his lips, he obediently wrapped his legs tightly around the brunet's waist and his arms around the other man's neck before Brian walked them back into the villa and into their king-sized bed for some more _snorkeling_, this time, thankfully though, without the mask and fins.

* * *

_Same day – early evening_

"So what do you want to do tonight, Sunshine?" Brian drew an imaginary map on the blond's chest as they snuggled in bed after another boisterous round of lovemaking, Justin's soft, golden hair tickling him as it rested on his shoulder.

"Oh!" Justin suddenly exclaimed. "That reminds me – I almost forgot to show you something."

"No, you didn't, Sunshine – believe me, I've seen it ALL by now," he teased.

Justin smacked him lightly on the chest. "Not THAT, you moron." Brian groaned a little as the little package of warmth removed itself briefly from his side to lean over and pick up a brochure that had been placed on the nightstand; in the interim, at least, he got to appreciate his husband's delightful backside.

"You are NOT going to believe this – I was looking at this brochure we got in that travel folder from the rental agency, and there's a list of gay dance clubs. Guess what one of them is called?"

"Adonis? Aphrodite's? Gay Boy's Dream?" Brian queried.

"No, you dork! _BABYLON_! Do you believe it??? Brian, we HAVE to check it out – it's calling OUT to us!" he exclaimed.

Brian rolled his eyes. "Just what I wanted to do – travel thousands of miles from the Pitts and its one-of-a-kind dance club called _Babylon_ to dance at a one-of-a-kind dance club in Mykonos named, of all things, _Babylon._ Duh, hello – is anyone home?" Brian asked, as he rapped lightly on Justin's skull, receiving a shake of the blond head and another smack on his chest in response. "Did it not occur to you that maybe the cart came before the horse and they named our club after THIS one?"

Justin smirked. "No, Brian, that _never_ would have occurred to me," he stated, sticking out his tongue. "Come on, though - it opens in an hour. Let's go find something to eat and then go check it out!" Justin plastered on his puppy-dog, sad, blue-eyed look that he knew Brian couldn't resist – at least normally. He was heartened to find out he was correct once again as he saw Brian's face first register disdain, then finally a tender, albeit patronizing smile.

He shook his head slightly, lips twisting in amusement. "Okay, Sunshine…..go get dressed in your sluttiest dance clothes and we'll trip the light fantastic." As Justin practically bounded out of bed with triumphant glee, Brian bit back a laugh as he warned, "Just remember – they can _window shop_ but they CAN'T touch," before he, too, rose a little more slowly from the bed than Justin and turned to the closet to search for something appropriate to wear.


	41. Chapter 41: Babylon Revisited

_Club Babylon - Mykonos – Late Evening_

As he looked over at Justin, Brian had decided it was a good thing he had reminded the blond of his "window shopping, hands off" policy, because prejudiced or not, the slender man currently bouncing lightly on his toes was _hot_. His milky white skin and golden hair almost glowed under the neon, multi-colored strobe lights that flashed above them as they mingled among the various nationalities of men that were ensconced in the crowded nightclub.

"Why do I feel like I'm still in the Pitts?" Brian growled. "Same old sweaty bodies, same old flashing lights, same old songs, even the same come-on lines."

Justin smiled as he wrapped his hands tighter around the other man's neck and rubbed the brunet's nose briefly before playfully nipping at it. "And how would you know that? They're speaking Greek, remember?"

"Yeah, well, when it comes to men leering at you and ogling you, it's a _universal language,_" he retorted, as his hands possessively crept around the blond's waist.

Justin grinned now; it was nice to know he still had it even in another country. "I'm not the _only_ one they're speaking a _universal language_ to," he commented, glancing around at the other men who were openly admiring the toned and tanned man in his arms.

Brian smirked. "We're both _fabulous_," he decided, when he suddenly spun the blond around and dipped him. As he heard Justin's cry of delight, he once again thought for a brief moment about another time several years ago when they had danced like this but Justin couldn't remember it; he was heartened, however, by knowing that they had had several other incredible moments since then. And he was intent on making sure they had several _more _for years to come.

When he pulled the lithe body back up, he couldn't help taking advantage of their positions by kissing his husband firmly. After all, he figured it couldn't hurt to make sure everyone else in the room knew who the other man belonged to, and who HE belonged to, for that matter. He was rewarded by a bright smile that left no mistake of the love Justin felt for him.

He leaned in to make sure he could be heard above the loud din of the room. "What do you say we go get a drink?" he asked the other man. Justin nodded in agreement as they slowly threaded their way through the noisy crowd toward the long, curving bar at the back of the room.

"Two Beams," Brian advised the white t-shirted bartender; the man nodded as they turned around to survey the room.

"You know you're right?" Justin decided. "Except for a little bit different music, and hearing a foreign language, it IS the same old sweaty bodies, music, and lights. Only the physical layout is a little different."

"Yeah, instead of one back room, they've got TWO," Brian observed. "Guess you have to account for the tourists," he smirked, as the bartender handed them their drinks. "Same old Beam, though. Ah," he said, as he gulped back the shot.

Justin joined him in finishing off the scotch before placing his glass back down on the bar. A typical, but unfamiliar song was just finishing and a new one was beginning. "Come on," Justin encouraged the brunet impatiently. Let's go back out to dance." He gently tugged on Brian's arm as his husband smiled in agreement. Swinging their hands together as they started to walk, Brian noticed an abrupt change in Justin's demeanor as the new song continued to play. In a manner of seconds, the blond went from carefree, happy, and playful to tense, rigid, and something else he couldn't quite figure out….fear, perhaps?

"Justin?" he asked, frowning. "What is it?"

Brian's concern grew even more when the blond grabbed his arm in an almost death-like grip. "Let's get out of here, Brian," he said fiercely. "Now!"

"What the fuck? Justin, what IS it?" All the while Brian was trying to speak to him, however, Justin was trying frantically to tug the man toward the exit door. "Justin! Talk to me! What is WRONG? You're starting to freak me out."

"Brian, _please_ – Let's go! Please! Now!" he beseeched the other man, his eyes closing almost as if he were in pain.

"Okay, okay," Brian reassured him. He had no idea what was going on, but it didn't really matter. If Justin wanted to leave this place so badly, he would go. "Let's go," he agreed, as Justin practically yanked him rapidly out the door.

The blond didn't slow down until they were at least fifty feet away. Finally, he stopped to catch his breath and lean against a wall of a nearby building. Brian continued to study him worriedly as he waited for Justin to calm down. As he reached out to wrap his arms around Justin's waist, the slender, trembling body immediately melted against him, the pale arms wrapping themselves tightly against his back.

Brian gently rubbed his hands around the slender back in soothing motions for several seconds before he noticed to his relief that Justin's breathing was returning somewhat back to normal. Hearing his husband take one final, deep, shaky breath, Brian pulled back just enough to take a look at the blond's face, which was flushed and wet with tears. "What is it?" he asked tenderly. "Justin? Tell me," he insisted softly. "What has gotten you so upset all of a sudden? Huh?" He continued to caress Justin's back with one hand at his waist as he reached over with the other to gently turn his face up to meet his.

Justin bit his lower lip a little self-consciously and briefly closed his eyes before long lashes fluttered back open and sapphire eyes awash in unshed tears shone back at him. "It was the song they were playing at the club," he finally breathed out softly.

Brian frowned, puzzled. "The song, Sunshine?" he pressed gently. "You mean a song they were playing tonight at Babylon?" As Justin nodded, he asked, "What about it? Were they playing one you didn't like?" he kidded, trying to lighten the other man's mood.

Justin shook his head, not cracking a hoped-for smile, however. "No, Brian," he said, a little more firmly now. "It was the song they were playing when we were leaving," he further explained.

Brian was totally confused. How could someone get so upset over a song? Now that he had Justin's attention, he placed both hands on either side of the blond head and gently wiped away some of the tears from his cheeks. "What _about_ the song, Justin?"

The younger man took another calming breath before he divulged, "It was the same song, Brian." As Brian shook his head to indicate he _still_ didn't understand, Justin added, "The same song at _our_ Babylon …………during the benefit."

Finally, Brian thought he understood. It was a Cyndy Lauper song playing tonight. Cyndy Lauper was performing _that_ night, too. "The same song when the bomb went off?" he inquired softly.

Relieved to _finally_ be understood, Justin merely nodded mutely. "Oh, fuck, Sunshine," Brian murmured as he pulled the slender body into a tight embrace. "Shit." At the time of the bombing, Brian had been amazed at how resilient Justin had been after the terrible events of that night; he seemed to have bounced back practically overnight. Upon reflection, however, he should have known that no one could have come through those events without any battle scars; Justin must have just been better at hiding them.

The two men stood there in a fierce embrace for several minutes, until Brian felt Justin begin to pull back slightly and take another calming breath. He pressed his face against Brian's chest as Brian reached around to place one hand on the blond hand and tenderly tousle the soft hair. "Feeling better now?" he whispered as his lips placed a soft kiss on the other man's forehead.

Justin sighed, nodding his head slightly. "Yeah," he murmured. "I'm sorry, Brian."

Brian pulled back to look at the soft blue eyes. "What the _fuck_ are you apologizing for, Sunshine?" he chided the other man gently. "You went through a _bombing_! You have _nothing_ to apologize FOR, Justin," he assured the other man strongly.

The other man explained. "I shouldn't let it get to me after all this time. It's just…..that's the first time I've heard that song again since it happened. And for us to hear it _here_……Shit! It just brought it all back again, that's all." He shook his head, trying to somehow clear the images from his mind: the flash of light, the screaming in panic and pain, the emergency sirens. He tried, instead, to focus on what he had _also_ heard that night – Brian's welcoming voice, frantically calling out his name. The same voice that had later told him that he loved him. The same welcoming voice he was hearing right now, as his husband continued to try and soothe him and once more take away his pain.

For the first time since they had danced earlier that evening, Justin looked up at Brian and smiled; smiled in love for this man who had seen him through so many trials and tribulations, smiled in gratitude for this wonderfully complex person who was always by his side, smiled in triumph that the two of them had faced so many challenges, yet had somehow persevered through all of them. Damn it – they had fucking beat the odds, and they would _continue_ to do so.

He squared his shoulders and now returned his husband's gaze firmly now. "I'm okay," he replied confidently. "Really. And I always will be……As long as you're by my side."

Just before their lips met for a heartfelt kiss, Brian whispered, "Always, Sunshine. Always."


	42. Chapter 42: Loved and Hated

Justin and Brian rode back in the jeep in relative silence, punctuated only by the occasional night bird piercing the darkness along the fairly isolated road leading up to their villa; two hands clasped together in comfort and reassurance were sufficient enough at the moment to convey the depths of their feelings for each other. As they neared their accommodations, Brian softly spoke up. "How are you doing over there?"

Justin smiled in the darkness and briefly squeezed the other man's hand. "I'm okay……I kind of like the quiet right now, though," he admitted.

Brian slowed the jeep down and stopped in front of the house; their quiet breathing was the only other sound heard except for the crashing of the waves on the rocks far below. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he answered quietly after a few seconds as they both listened to the peacefulness. "There's something about the ocean that's calming, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I like it. It's……soothing. At the risk of sounding like some lesbionic poet, sometimes I wish I could go to bed with the lullaby of the waves and wake up to it, too." In the moonlight shining through the windows, Brian could make out Justin smiling sheepishly at the sound of his sentimental statement.

"You know we could," Brian ventured.

"What?"

"Go to sleep with the ocean and wake up to it, too," he replied.

Justin frowned. "You mean…….move?"

Brian smiled, slightly tilting his head to look at the blond. "Yeah, exactly."

"You would do that for me?" Justin asked in awe.

"If that's what you wanted," he answered firmly without hesitation. "I like the ocean, too, you know."

Justin looked at Brian tenderly, touched by his concern and thoughtfulness. "That would be nice……maybe someday. But we just moved to our loft a little while ago, and I'm just now to the point where the studio is making a good profit. If it's okay, I'd like to stay where we are until I'm more established. Besides, Kinnetik is well-known in the Pitts now and you're poised to expand all over the East coast. I think it's important you stay where you're at for a while, too. Maybe someday in the near future we can think about that. I _do_ love the ocean," he answered wistfully. He smiled, though, as he added, "In my role as a poet, though, I feel it's important that I point out that it's not _where_ I'm at that makes me happy, it's who I'm _with_."

Brian briefly thought about making some sarcastic comment about Justin being a sentimental twat, but surprised even himself by choosing instead to just appreciate the statement for what it was. He smiled at Justin as the two leaned together of one accord to kiss.

After several seconds, Brian pulled back enough to whisper, "How about we continue this inside? This seems too much like two fucking high school kids making out in their car at the drive-in theater."

Justin chuckled. "Sounds like an excellent plan, Mr. Kinney." The two men opened the doors of the jeep and walked toward their villa, Brian instinctively reaching to grasp the other's hand as they walked to the entrance.

As they entered the luxury villa, Brian closed the door and gently grasped Justin's shoulders; the blond responded by turning around and placing his hands around the brunet's waist. "Brian," Justin murmured, as the older man tenderly stroked the blond's lower lush lip with his thumb before leaning down to replace his finger with his lips in a lingering kiss.

Thoughts of Justin's earlier trembling, frightened body reverberated through Brian's memories as his hands slowly caressed the slender frame. "Let's go outside to the pool," he suggested huskily. "I think it's time for a midnight swim, don't you?"

Justin smiled in agreement. As Brian gently tugged his arm to follow him outside, however, he felt Justin hesitate. "What?" he asked in concern.

"I just have to get something first," he reassured him.

Brian looked at him intently; he _seemed _to be okay, unlike how he was outside the club earlier. "What – you have to go get your swim trunks? I prefer your _birthday suit_, Sunshine," he teased, causing Justin inexplicably to blush a little.

"Brian," he chuckled. "No – not that. I'll be right out – I promise. You go on."

Brian gazed at him, trying to gauge his intention. Shrugging a little finally, he acquiesced. "Okay. But _don't_ be bringing out those fucking flippers or your mask. That kind of kills the mood," he growled good naturedly.

Justin laughed now. "No snorkeling equipment. I'll be right there – go." He shooed Brian away as if he were a big fly. Frowning a little, Brian nonetheless walked out to the cabana, losing his clothing along the way until he had nothing on by the time he reached the heated pool. Sticking a toe in to test the temperature and finding it satisfactory, he dove elegantly into the water. As he emerged to stand in the pool, he could hear the soft strains of a jazz tune playing from the outside speakers inconspicuously tucked into artificial rocks surrounding the pool. After a few seconds, he could also see the flickers of several candles glowing from inside the villa. Smirking at little at the unabashedly romantic setting, he anxiously waited for Justin to come outside to join him. _I'll give you one minute, Sunshine, then I'm coming in to DRAG you out here._ He did not want his husband inside alone to fret about what had happened earlier and to rehash unpleasant memories; they were here to forge some new, entirely pleasurable ones.

He was just about to get out to do just that when he finally noticed the blond coming out, wearing the requested swimwear – _nothing_ except a radiant smile. Brian's eyes raked appreciatively from the pale, blond head down to Justin's feet; no matter how many times he saw his lover naked, it always took his breath away. Since they had made love bareback, also, it had only served to heighten the anticipation of what was sure to come.

Brian whispered, "Just the right attire. Come here," he drawled softly in that way that made Justin's heart always beat rapidly. Justin moved slowly toward Brian, allowing the brunet to study him thoroughly through darkening hazel eyes. Brian noticed that Justin, however, was holding one arm behind his back. "What have you got there, Sunshine?" he asked suspiciously. "You didn't bring out that damn mask after I told you not to, did you?" he accused him.

Justin rolled his eyes in exasperation. "No, _Mr. Kinney_, I didn't bring out my mask. Hard to suck face with that, anyway, and I intend to do a _lot_ of sucking in the next hour."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Brian replied in amusement. His eyes narrowed, however; Justin was definitely hiding something. "Then what have you got behind your back?" he asked pointedly. "Let's see it, Sunshine." He crooked his finger to urge the other man closer.

Justin slowly advanced toward the edge of the pool and sat down near Brian. "Come out and sit here next to me," he asked somewhat coyly as he patted the tiled surface.

"What are you up to, Mr. Taylor?" Brian asked him guardedly.

Justin smiled seductively. "Come out here and find out, _Mr. Kinney_," he encouraged softly.

Brian slowly ambled over in the water until he was gazing up at Justin. Intrigued, he was about to heft himself out of the water when he decided maybe a little _water_ _polo _was in order.

"Brian!" Justin cried, as he felt water being splashed at him and he heard the other man actually _giggle._ "Not fair!" he scolded him. "You do that again and no surprise for you," he warned him, pursing his lips into an adorable pout.

Brian sighed; he could never resist that look. "Okay, I'll behave……for now," he promised as he finally lifted himself out of the pool slowly so as not to splash the blond any more. As he sat down next to the other man, he turned to him as held out his hand. "All right, Sunshine, I've held up my part of the bargain…..let's see what you're hiding behind your back now."

Justin smiled widely. "You'll have to _work_ for it," he instructed teasingly, continuing to hold his hand behind his back.

Brian rolled his eyes in exasperation. "What makes you think I really care WHAT you've got?" he asked nonchalantly, just before he quickly reached out to tickle Justin by his waist as the blond erupted into fits of giggles. "Hand it over, and you won't get hurt," Brian warned him as he continued the torment. Justin frantically tried to escape unsuccessfully from the brunet's clutches as he struggled to hold his hand behind his back. "Okay, okay," he finally relented. "Stop," he panted, trying to regain his breath as Brian finally ceased his torture.

"Give it up," the brunet commanded, holding out his hand again. Justin smiled as he slowly swung his hand around to the front and placed a small, copper-colored satin box in Brian's hand.

"What is it?" he asked curiously as he looked at Justin's mysterious expression.

"Open it," Justin urged softly. He braced his hand on Brian's shoulder as he peered over to watch his husband open the box up.

"Justin," Brian murmured, as he opened the box to find a pewter and gold link bracelet nestled inside. The intricate carving of the two metals danced in the moonlight as the brunet gingerly picked it up to study it more closely. It wasn't a clunky bracelet, or a dainty one; it was just substantial enough to complement his lean wrist perfectly.

Justin studied Brian's expression, unable to determine his reaction as the other man remained silent, still examining the gift. "I know you don't wear your cowry bracelet anymore," he explained. "But I thought you might be willing to wear something else." He bit his lip a little anxiously as he waited for Brian to say something.

"It's amazing," Brian finally assured him, as he turned to smile at Justin, who beamed at him in relief. "But you didn't have to get me anything – I didn't _expect_ you to." He looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable as he pointed out, "I didn't get you anything."

Justin looked at him incredulously. "Brian!" he admonished him. "You bought our beautiful rings and arranged for our wedding and this honeymoon……that's more than I ever needed _or_ wanted. Although, it's all been _absolutely wonderful_," he admitted, as he leaned up to give the brunet a quick kiss. "I wanted to do this for you. Let me," he instructed the other man, as he gently took the bracelet from the other man's hand and draped it around the tanned wrist to snap the clasp in place.

Brian held it up to the light to admire it. As he did so, he noticed the design on the front looked different from the rest of the bracelet. "I've never seen a bracelet like this one," he observed, as he continued to look at the distinctive jewelry with the intricate, intertwining design.

"Yeah, it's one of a kind," Justin confirmed. "You remember Tony, the metal artisan who works a couple of doors down from my studio?" At Brian's affirmative nod, he continued, "He made it for me from a design I drew. He actually traded me the work in exchange for a painting I did for him."

Brian peered closely at the front of the bracelet, which displayed a design that looked like _αγαπημένος_.

"Is this a word on the front? It looks like it's in Greek." He had seen enough of the language on Mykonos by now to recognize some of the letters.

Justin appeared a little sheepish, as if he had been caught with his hands in the proverbial cookie jar. "Yeah, it IS Greek," he admitted. "I thought with our traveling to Mykonos, it was a logical choice. I figured if I put it in English, you probably wouldn't wear it. This way, unless you run into someone who speaks fluent Greek, it should just look like a design of some type."

"So just what does it _say_?" Brian asked curiously, as he continued to study the way the bracelet glinted in the overhead light. The bracelet was elegant as well as classy on his tanned wrist, he had to admit. He looked over at Justin, waiting for his answer, eyebrows raised.

Justin looked embarrassed as he softly admitted, "It spells _LOVED_," he advised softly, as he looked down, unsure of Brian's reaction. He received an answer when he felt a warm hand gently grasp his chin to turn his head toward the brunet, who was smiling tenderly at him, eyes shining brightly.

"It's beautiful," Brian reassured him, as Justin released a soft sigh of relief and smiled. "I'll treasure it," he vowed with surprising honesty. "I'll never take it off, even when we're fucking in the shower," he teased now, receiving a radiant, trademark smile in response. "In fact, we can test its water-soluble qualities right now in the pool," he growled huskily, as he wrapped his hands around Justin's waist and pulled him closer. Caressing the other man's back, he pressed the blond to him in a firm embrace as the two came together for a deep kiss. As they finally broke apart after several seconds, Brian suddenly gave the other man a playful push into the pool. Justin squealed as he was plunged below the water, but he soon felt two strong arms pulling him up to stand in the 5-foot depth of the infinity pool.

Brian looked over at Justin's sapphire eyes, which were absolutely sparkling with love. As he gently pushed wet, blond hair from the other man's eyes to tenderly tuck it around his earlobes, he licked his lips, his own lust-filled eyes a rich, dark brown color. "Your eyes match the color of the ocean." The _ridiculously_ _romantic_ thought escaped from his lips before he could prevent it from being said aloud. But the blinding smile he received in return was well worth the chance of being temporarily labeled a lesbionic queen. _Well, might as well go all the way. _"I love you, Justin Taylor," he crooned softly.

Justin's twinkling eyes shone even brighter as they filled with tears of joy for the unexpected and fairly rare verbal expression of emotion. "I love you too, Brian," he answered, before the two of them molded themselves tightly together for another smoldering kiss. "Now let's see how long we can hold our breath underwater while we fuck," he giggled.

"That won't take long, Sunshine," Brian chuckled, as he grabbed the other man's cock and heard the blond moan as a jolt of pleasure shot through him. "See? Too easy," he laughed, as the two of them slowly sunk under the surface to test their stamina.

* * *

_Next Morning – Alleghany County Jail_

Aiden Prescott glared as Greg Matthews entered the interrogation room. "You smug son of a bitch," he snarled. "You don't have _anything_ on me."

"Quiet, Aiden," he was instantly warned by Ken Dumford, his attorney sitting by his side at the table. "I would caution you against saying _anything_ at this point," he warned his client pointedly.

"I'd listen to the man," Greg urged him, as he pulled a seat to sit across from the pair. "But you're wrong, you know. I have more than enough for a jury to hand you down a life sentence…..with NO parole." He smiled at the two confidently, evoking a momentary expression of uncertainty from the otherwise cocky brother before the mask slipped back into place.

"You're bullshitting me," Prescott retorted defiantly. "You have _nothing_," he repeated, although this time he sounded a little less sure of himself.

Matthews wasn't smiling now; he looked deadly serious as he tilted his chair back and asked him, "What if I told you that we have you on audio and video providing instructions for a hit contract to be carried out on Wyatt Sinclair and Brian Kinney? And it's all on crystal-clear HD for the entire world – and a jury – to see," he advised smugly. He watched, satisfied, as Prescott's face paled noticeably and his eyes darted in concern at his attorney.

Prescott, however, still tried to deflect any possible incrimination. His voice faltered a little, however, as he shakily insisted, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Matthews was tired of playing games; this wasn't the big fish he was ultimately after. His eyes narrowed as he leaned toward the other man. "Look – let's cut to the chase here, shall we?" he advised the two men. "I have your little visit with Kingsley at the Belpre Hotel in full living color and sound. So I know all about your deal with your brother to find a hit man to take out both Sinclair and Kinney." Prescott covered his face in his hands and cringed as the prosecutor continued. "I have you dead to rights, Prescott," he stated flatly. He turned to Dumford as he continued, "Your client is looking at 35 years to life with NO parole, and from my standpoint, it's an open and shut case. Kingsley has agreed to testify against both Prescott brothers," he divulged. He knew the wiry detective was safely ensconced in a secret location and would be held there until the trial occurred to ensure he was adequately protected.

Playing his ace card now, Matthews advised, "I'm prepared to offer your client a deal."

Dumford looked over at his client, who refused to look anywhere but at his lap. He sighed wearily before responding, "Just what type of deal, Mr. Matthews?"

"Let me be straight here," he answered directly. "I am _not_ offering your client immunity. He's in up to his eyeballs with this scheme. But I AM prepared to offer him a partially reduced sentence in exchange for a guilty plea and his testimony against his brother. At least with this deal, he could possibly be looking at parole after 25 years, instead of literally spending the rest of his life in jail." Prescott finally looked up at the prosecutor as he warned him, "Make no mistake about it, Prescott. You WILL be convicted as the evidence now stands. And if you don't agree to this deal, I WILL see that you spend the rest of your life in a jail cell." He steepled his fingers together as he asked pointedly, "So what's it going to be, gentlemen?" He waited expectantly for an answer as he stared at both men.

Dumford shook his head in frustration; his client had conveniently neglected to confide in him about his meeting with Kingsley and had protested he was being railroaded somehow; now he knew that was not the case at all. He client was in serious trouble. He sighed wearily as he asked Matthews, "May I have some private time with my client for a few minutes?"

Matthews smiled. "Of course," he responded agreeably. "I'll be back in ten minutes," he advised, as he stood up to leave. _Gotcha._

As Matthews closed the door behind him, he walked up to Carl Horvath, who was peering into the interrogation room's one-way mirror. "He's running scared, Greg," Carl observed with a little smile of satisfaction. "I think someone's about to turn redcoat on his brother."

Matthews chuckled. "Yeah, it's amazing what the threat of a little video and audio evidence can do to a person's loyalties. If he's a smart boy, he'll take the deal. Otherwise, the only way he AND his brother will come out of jail time is in a pine box."

"But you still think his testimony is essential to ensuring his brother is convicted on the attempted murder charges?" Horvath queried.

"Yeah, I really do," Matthews answered firmly. "Right now, all we have is the tape showing that Kingsley and Lane Prescott met together at the jail. It's Kingsley's word against Lane Prescott's what was actually discussed."

"But you have Prescott's own brother discussing Lane's involvement in the hit contracts all on tape when he met with Kingsley," Carl insisted. "Isn't that enough?"

"Maybe," Matthews conceded. "But it would still all boil down to one Prescott brother's word against another. Who's to say that Aiden wasn't making up the part that Lane had actually initiated the deal, so he could deflect the blame away from himself? And before you say it, yes, Kingsley is prepared to testify against Lane Prescott, also, but I don't want there being _any_ chance that the S.O.B. can get away with this somehow. I want his conviction to be absolutely _ironclad,_" he stated vehemently.

"That goes without saying," Carl agreed. "My girlfriend's chomping at the bit to know what happened at the hotel the other day. She knows it's privileged information until the trial, but she also knows it has to do with two boys she thinks about as her sons. If that man somehow gets off, she, along with a lot of other people, are going to be outraged."

"I know…..I'll be one of them. And I'm sure Justin and Brian will feel the same way as well. Not to mention Justin won't ever be totally safe until that man has no possibility of ever getting out."

As both men looked into the interrogation room, they noted that Prescott did not look happy at all. Dumford was doing the majority of the talking and he appeared to be sternly lecturing the other man. "It appears Prescott isn't very satisfied with his attorney's advice," Matthews observed. "I take that as a good sign, actually." Nodding at Horvath, he stated, "I think their time's up. Wish me luck."

"You know it," Carl responded, as he watched Matthews reenter the interrogation room.

"Well, Gentlemen, what's it going to be?" Matthews pressed Prescott and his attorney as he sat back down and looked at them pointedly.

Prescott sighed, defeated, as Dumford confirmed, "My client will agree to your terms, Mr. Matthews."


	43. Chapter 43: Seasick with Love

_Late Morning – Mykonos – Next Day_

"Mmmm," was the only mumbled response filtering from the covered lump under the luxurious, padded silk duvet as Brian gave it a nudge. If it hadn't been for the pale, uncovered foot sticking out of the mass of fabric, it would have been hard for Brian to determine where the younger man's blond head was. "Wakey, wakey, Sunshine," Brian whispered. "Ship ahoy."

"Go away, we went skin diving four times already," Brian thought he heard, although it was muttered under the lump's breath. Brian rolled his eyes; apparently it was time to try a more direct tactic. The lump remained unmoving as Brian reached over to the nearby side table and picked up a warm, fuckingly outrageous high-carb, sticky cinnamon croissant and waved it as near to his husband's nose as he could determine; at _least_ he thought it was somewhere around there – who could tell?

He was ultimately rewarded, however, when a blond head stuck itself out from the covers briefly. "I smell cinnamon," he whispered appreciatively. "Where it is?"

Brian smirked. _Sex and food – an unbeatable combination._ "Come out of there, Mr. Taylor, and maybe you'll find out."

"Bri-an," he whined. "We just went to bed."

Brian huffed. "No, we did NOT. It's almost NOON. Now get your cute little tight ass out of there, Sunshine. We've got plans. You've got exactly 45 minutes: 10 minutes to wolf down the croissants, 15 minutes for a shower, and 10 minutes to get dressed."

"That's 35 minutes," the lump muttered, as the blond head was once more submerged under the covers.

"Always throwing that SAT score in my face, aren't you? No, Mr. Taylor, I'm allowing us just enough time for a decent blow job," Brian retorted. "But only if you get up NOW!" he demanded. He _knew_ he should have tried to wake his husband up an hour ago – what was he thinking?

"You have 10 seconds," he advised impatiently. "Then I'm coming in there."

"Promises, promises," Justin sing-songed.

Brian curled his lips under in amusement. _If that's the way you want to play it, Sunshine._ Slowly, he pulled up the nearest corner of the duvet, discovering just the right area for his target – a wide expanse of creamy, pale skin around a certain blond's waist.

A shriek and giggles erupted from Justin as Brian literally pounced on him suddenly, resorting to an extreme bout of frantic tickling. "Stop it!" Justin cried in between fits of laughter. "No fair!"

"I _warned_ you!" Brian responded, chuckling, as his long, elegant hands continued its unrelenting torment. The two men continued to wrestle each other on the bed as Justin decided the best defense was an offense. "What goes around, comes around," he taunted, as he startling tickling the brunet in just the perfect spot above Brian's waist that he knew would drive him crazy. He was rewarded with the feel of tanned skin rippling at his touch and laughter bubbling up from the brunet; Justin loved it when Brian was comfortable enough to be so open with him.

"Okay, okay," Justin finally relented, as he stopped tickling the older man. "Truce. Stop, Brian!" he ordered the other man, who was apparently choosing to ignore his request. Justin smacked one of the offending hands. "I said I'll get up! Stop it! Cease and desist!" He struggled to raise his upper body from the bed, but found his body thrown back down on the mattress and his hands pinned above his head instead. He immediately recognized the dark, lustful look in the almost chocolate-colored eyes that suddenly gazed back at him; their playful wrestling match quickly escalated into yet another intense lovemaking session as Brian used his advantage to sensually meld their two bodies together as he slowly kissed the plump, inviting lips tenderly, deepening the kiss as Justin moaned into his mouth. Their tongues dueled for supremacy as the kiss seemed to go on for eternity before the two had to break apart to catch their breath.

"I thought we were on a time schedule," Justin murmured once he could breath normally again; Brian leaned down to nuzzle his neck and place small nips on his earlobe as Justin shivered in response.

"I always build some extra time into it," Brian huskily replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what it is about you, but somehow things always seem to get out of hand."

Justin snorted. "I can't imagine why……could it be that I have an incredibly sexy husband that is a fucking sex machine?"

Brian smiled. "Why, Sunshine, you know me so well. I _knew_ there was a reason why I let you marry me."

Justin rolled his eyes. "Oh, brother. Humility – thy name is NOT Brian," he retorted. "Oh!" He squirmed slightly as Brian's tongue came out to start licking a path from his left ear, down his throat, and on to his left nipple. Brian continued to hold Justin's slender hands hostage, but began to slowly rub his thumbs over the sensitive area of the other man's palms, immediately creating goose pimples all over the pale skin. Brian could feel the lithe body trembling with desire as he whispered in between licks, "You know Michael once told me that the good doctor David spent over 20 minutes paying homage to just _one_ of his nipples?"

Justin's breath was now coming out in quick, little pants as Brian continued to swirl his tongue over and over the rosy peak; he suddenly bucked off the bed as the brunet unexpectedly gave it a nip with his teeth before assuming the tongue washing again. "Is……is that so?" he finally managed to stammer.

"Yeah……" Brian's tongue began to trail a wet path now from Justin's left nipple over to his right…._very slowly._ "Personally, though, I prefer to spend my leisure time in a more _southern_ area." He gave the right nipple a matching bite now, before washing it thoroughly with a very wet tongue. Justin softly whimpered a little in disappointment as Brian abruptly discontinued his ministration and moved back slightly to look at him intently with eyes now that were almost solid black with undisguised lust. His frustration, however, was extremely brief as Brian's head quickly swooped down and Justin felt a very wet, very skilled tongue gave a long, leisurely swipe against his very hard cock. "Oh, God!" Justin cried, as his entire body rebelled against the other man's restraints. "Damn you," he growled. This man could always get him hard and begging in no time flat. "Please, Brian," Justin pleaded, as the other man chuckled under his breath but continued his torment of the other man; Justin was now a wriggling, writhing mess of desire.

"Please, what, Sunshine? I'm a little busy here," he huskily whispered. "I told you we only have 15 minutes allotted for a blow job this morning." "Fuck!" Justin exclaimed, as Brian abruptly took the entire length of his cock into his very talented mouth. Justin was so turned on it only took a few seconds before he exploded, his orgasm shuddering through him violently as Brian held his hands prisoner while he lapped up every drop and swallowed.

As the blond's breathing finally slowed down to a more normal rhythm, Brian glanced over at the clock. "Not bad…..we actually accomplished that in 12 minutes. Gives us 3 additional minutes in the shower for you to blow _me_ off now."

Justin smiled as his eyes roved appreciatively down the lean body, dwelling extra long on the hard cock so in need of his attention. Hazel eyes locked with blue ones as Brian finally released his hands and stood up, stretching catlike. He extended a long arm out to Justin, who grasped it firmly as Brian pulled him out of bed.

"Come on, Mr. Taylor, we have a _tight_ schedule here for your _tight_ ass. Fifteen minutes for a shower. No, strike that - _eighteen_ minutes now." He somewhat impatiently tugged the other man toward the spacious, marble walk-in shower that they had been making good use of for the past week.

"Wait!" Justin resisted briefly as he quickly grabbed one of the buttery cinnamon croissants off the side table as Brian continue to pull him along. He popped it into his mouth with his free hand and took a large bite of it. "Hmm," he crooned. "Good," he declared.

He frowned all of a sudden. "Just _where_ are we going on such a _tight_ schedule?" he asked the other man; he realized that he had forgotten all about why he was roused out of bed in the first place after that mind-shattering blow job he had just been given by a certain, extremely skilled brunet.

As Justin finished off the croissant in record time, shoving the final, large remaining piece of it in his mouth just as they reached the shower, Brian leaned in briefly to bestow a quick kiss on the button nose. "We're going sailing," he whispered in the blond's ear.

Justin's eyes lit up. "Sailing?" he squeaked excitedly. "You mean….just the two of us?"

As Brian opened the glass door of the shower for the two of them to enter, he closed the door and turned back toward the blond to answer. "Well, I think Popeye might be busy today," he quipped. "Yes, Mr. Taylor…..just the _two of us_," he verified. As the water increased to the desired hot temperature, he gently pushed the other man into the spray and joined him.

"You know how to operate a sailboat?" Justin asked him skeptically. In all the time they had been together, Brian had never mentioned having any boating skills; in fact, up until their trip, the closest they had come to a large body of water was when they had fucked in the hot tub at the hotel in Vermont on their wedding night.

As Brian picked up a bar of soap and began to slowly lather Justin's chest and shoulders, he retorted, "I'll have you know, _Mr. Taylor_, that I went sailing several times in the summer with one of my roommates when I was going to college. I am quite capable of operating a large-scale sailboat, thank you very much. Now all I need is a capable deckhand."

Justin huffed. "I know all about operating a sailboat. My parents and I used to go out on the lake with my grandparents all the time when they owned a cabin up in Canada. We always vacationed there in the summer," he explained.

"Well, if you're a good fuck, I can always excuse some incompetency anyway," Brian remarked, earning a resounding slap on the ass from the blond. "Ow!" he yelled. "Watch it, you twat! Unlike you, there's not much padding back there."

Justin quickly pinched both of the brunet's butt cheeks playfully, as Brian unsuccessfully tried to dodge him. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he pronounced, as Brian glared at him. Justin smiled at him innocently as he leaned in under the spray of water to rinse himself off. "But you _like_ my _padding_," he insisted, eyes twinkling at the other man.

Brian curled his mouth under to keep from openly smiling in return. "Well, it does serve its purpose at times," he admitted grudgingly. At the other man's pout, Brian chuckled out loud now. "Come on, Sunshine," he urged the other man, intending to lean down and give his husband a short, albeit resounding kiss and exit the shower; as usual, however, the kiss quickly deepened into yet another tongue-twisting exploration; both pulled back with red, bruised lips about a minute later, breathing heavily. As they rested their foreheads together to allow their breathing to return to normal, Justin murmured to the other man, "By the way, _Captain, _I think I owe you a return favor."

"Indeed you do, Ensign Taylor," Brian confirmed, casting his eyes down to his rock-hard cock. "In the immortal words of Popeye, _blow me down!"_ Justin laughed as he dropped to his knees to do just that.


	44. Chapter 44: A Beginning and An Ending

_Mykonos – Late Afternoon_

"Justin?" Brian dropped the carryout sack on the kitchen counter that he had picked up at the small Greek deli down in the village; the two men had frequently stopped there in the two weeks they had been on the island. It was great place for them to find the high-carb, fattening grub Justin always gravitated to, while Brian could maintain his habit of eating healthier food.

"Justin?" he repeated when he didn't receive any response. He was starting to get a little concerned, when he finally noticed the blond sitting with his back to him out on the veranda, apparently watching the crashing waves below.

He quietly walked out to join the other man, who had his customary sketchpad sitting next to him, and gently placed his hands on the other's shoulders so as not to startle him. Justin turned his head to smile up at him as Brian leaned down to give him a tender kiss. Noticing the slight sadness in the expressive face, he frowned a little. "You look awfully pensive, Sunshine," he observed. "What's on your mind?" He sat down next to his husband and joined him on the tiled floor. Justin turned back to silently watch the ocean far below; even from this height, the waves collided so violently with the large rocks you could still hear the rushing water and the pounding of it as it splashed against the boulders.

He sighed a little, as Brian reached his hand around the slender shoulder to pull him closer in a comfortable camaraderie, his newly-acquired pewter and gold bracelet reflecting off the sun that was rapidly setting just above the water. The sky was quickly changing from its typical blue to shades of pink and purple as the sun began to creep ever closer to the horizon.

"It's kind of silly, I know," Justin quietly began, his eyes unable to stray from the spectacular show being displayed for them where the sun and ocean met. "On the one hand, I can't _wait_ to get home and tell everybody that I'm a _kept man_ now," he teased, as Brian grinned. "I'm so glad that we're finally married," he remarked happily, his eyes shining as he thought about their ceremony and wedding night in Vermont on the first leg of their journey. As the sun finally slipped below the surface of the water, he turned to look at Brian as he continued. "But I'm also sorry to see it all end." He looked wistful as he explained, "these past couple of weeks have been SO wonderful, Brian. Being alone, just the two of us….."

"With the pigeons and what was that damn bird's name? Peter, Petraeus….."

"Petros," Justin interjected. "Don't worry – I've got all kinds of sketches of him from down at the marina. He will live on forever in our dreams from now on," the blond assured him teasingly.

"Oh, I'm overcome with emotion at THAT thought," Brian growled as Justin grinned at him briefly before continuing his thoughts. "Well, Petros notwithstanding, it's been more wonderful than I could have imagined." His eyes swept over the villa they had called home. "This house……it holds so many unbelievable memories now. This was the perfect place for us to get away. Going sailing the other day – who knew you were such an accomplished seaman, Mr. Kinney?" he noted, as the other man gave him a mock salute, eyebrows raised. "Watching the sunset every night, and even having a few chances to see it _rise_, too…..that is, when we weren't too busy watching something _else_ rise, that is." The two shared a mutual, knowing smile. "All that fattening Greek food to try…..we have GOT to find an authentic Greek restaurant in the Pitts. Maybe I can get Deb to try selling Baklava at the diner?" he said hopefully. Brian rolled his eyes at THAT comment.

"Well, maybe not….."Justin decided, smiling. "Better have her stick to lemon bars. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah…..The beaches, the clubs, exploring Delos, all of it. It's been absolutely wonderful and exactly what we needed. And you can close your ears if you want, Mr. Kinney, but you know what?"

"No," the brunet replied quickly. "But something tells me you're about to let me in on it."

"You are correct-a-mundo," Justin verified, as he leaned over and began to rain butterfly kisses all over the other man's neck, face and ears. He gave the tender, fleshy lobe a love bite as he whispered in the other man's ear, his hot breath sending shivers up the brunet's spine, "When it was all said and done, it really didn't matter _where_ we were, as long as we were _together._"

Brian couldn't help smiling as his body responded automatically to the husky sound of Justin's voice; it still amazed him after all these years that this man could get him so turned on just by the way he _spoke_ to him. Sometimes he thought Justin could be reciting a _fucking_ nursery rhyme and his cock would STILL stand rigidly at attention. His voice sounded a little heavy with desire as he commented, "You must admit, though, Sunshine, that being out of the Pitts and the crappy weather and living it up by the ocean as we fucked our brains out did have a certain _appeal_."

Justin grinned in agreement. "Yeah, that DID add a little something to it, I guess," he admitted. "But we _still_ get to fuck our brains out when we get back to the loft, too."

"Count on it, Sunshine…..That was part of our wedding vows," Brian murmured, as Justin once again began his sensual assault on the other man with his soft, talented lips. "Actually," Brian whispered, "fucking my brains out here on the veranda was stipulated in our marriage contract, too."

"Is that right?" Justin chuckled. "Well, never let it be said that I didn't live UP to my agreement," he decided. He suddenly pushed Brian down on the thick cushions they had laid out on the marble-tiled floor and straddled the other man's tanned legs; the stark contrast between Brian's dark skin and Justin's pale tone was striking.

"I'm glad to see you didn't turn into a lobster while we were here, Sunshine," Brian observed softly, as he slowly caressed the other man's thighs. before tugging his swim briefs down. "Although I see that _one_ part of your anatomy is quickly changing color, though," he observed, as he took hold of Justin's cock and gently squeezed.

Justin blushed as a soft groan of pleasure escaped his lips. "You always _were_ a slut for my cock, you naughty man," Justin growled mockingly as he reached down to pinch and twist one of his husband's erect nipples. Brian was the one who groaned now as Justin deliberately squirmed on top of the brunet, his ass cheeks provocatively brushing up against the brunet's cock with each pass.

"NOW who's the slut?" Brian retorted; Justin squeaked as Brian suddenly reversed their positions and he flipped Justin on his back. Looking smugly down at the blond, he remarked, sighing melodramatically, "One more night of non-stop _skin diving_ and then it's back to the Mile High Club the rest of the way home. So much fucking, so _little time_," he teased, grinning lopsidedly in that endearing way that always made Justin's heart beat faster.

Justin held onto the other man's upper arms as Brian swooped down for another heart stopping kiss. As he pulled back from their tongue duel several seconds later, Brian peered down into the face of the man he loved more than he ever thought possible. He looked deeply into the crystal blue eyes for a few seconds, just like he had so long ago after that eventful dance, before almost shyly leaning back down for a gentler, softer kiss. "I love you so much, Mr. Taylor," he murmured fervently against the soft mouth, as he felt a million-watt smile being flashed in return.

"Brian," Justin whispered, almost reverently. At the risk of incurring his husband's good-natured scorn, he couldn't help adding, his request coming out almost like a plea, "Make love to me. Then you can fuck me into tomorrow afterward."

He was pleasantly surprised, though, when Brian didn't roll his eyes or smirk at him. He simply stared back at him with that tender, boyish smile that always made his heart soar, the same one he had given Justin that night at Britin when he had first proposed marriage and then made love to him afterward. Brian slowly melded their bodies together and placed both of his hands on either side of the blond's face to steady it for another toe-curling kiss, turning the pale face at an angle to deeper their hold on each other's lips. "My pleasure," Brian huskily murmured finally, as they eventually had to break for air.

* * *

_Next Morning – Liberty Diner_

"Hey! Have some tea?" Debbie called out from behind the counter.

"Sounds great," Jennifer smiled congenially, as she placed her briefcase down beside her on an accompanying stool and slid herself under the counter.

"Working this morning? Debbie asked. "Shit," she cracked, slapping her head with her palm a little, "why does that sound like I'm speaking to a call girl all of a sudden?"

Jennifer laughed. "Sometimes when I'm showing clients potential new houses, I _feel_ like I'm working the streets, all right." She gratefully accepted the lemon herb tea that Debbie placed in front of her with a nod and a smile. "Yeah, I just got done driving around Lawrenceville with a pair of clients to look at potential condos with them. As a matter of fact, they're interested in one not too far down the road from where Justin and Brian live. If they'd been back already, I would have had an excuse to stop in the studio and say hi to my son."

"Yeah, _speaking_ of the world travelers, when are they due back? I've got a bone to pick with that son of yours. I was expecting regular updates from that little shit and he's only e-mailed me twice," she growled good-naturedly. "Although, knowing Brian I have a feeling he's been keeping your son _pre-occupied._"

Jennifer blushed a little. "I'm sure you're right," she agreed. "They're actually due back tomorrow," she said excitedly, her blue eyes sparkling so much like her son's at the moment. "I spoke to Justin last night for a few minutes. He sounded SO happy, Debbie. Probably the happiest I've heard him sound in a LONG time. He said they've had the most wonderful time. He was looking forward to coming home in a way, but he was also a little down that their trip was coming to an end. He said he's taken _tons_ of photos, though, and he's been drawing _anything that moves, walks, swims, or captures his eye_ in his words, which, he said, was just about _everything_ in Mykonos." She smiled tenderly as she recalled their conversation. "I'm so glad they both had a chance to get away after this past year." She noticed as she looked back at Debbie that she had become very serious all of a sudden; a slight pained look appeared on her face. "Debbie? What is it?" she asked, concerned that the other woman maybe WAS upset with her son. "You know Justin loves you…..you know how it is when you're on vacation. I'm sure he didn't mean to slight you or anything. As it was, we were just on the phone for a few minutes before I distinctly heard what I'm sure was a _certain someone_, shall we say, _assaulting _my son behind his back. I'm sure I heard Justin giggling, even though he was doing his best to cover it up," she said conspiratorily.

"No, no, it's nothing like that, Jennifer, Debbie reassured her. "Shit! I know Sunshine's been busy having a great time….I'm sure they _both_ have. And I'm SO fucking glad about that – really. It's just…..Damn." The normally effusive woman was inexplicably at a loss for words, which concerned Jennifer even more.

"What IS it, then, Debbie? What are you trying to tell me….or maybe more accurately, NOT tell me?" she pressed.

"Maybe I should answer that." Both women looked up to see Carl Horvath walking toward them.

"Carl," Debbie said in relief. She was glad she didn't have to be the one to break the bad news to Jennifer. She really didn't know exactly what was going on with Prescott, but she had been told enough by Carl to know that there was still some kind of big trouble involved. He had cryptically told that she would have to wait to find out - it was still confidential and unresolved, so she was still pretty much in the dark about all the details. As her boyfriend sat down next to Jennifer, she turned his coffee mug over to pour him a cup. She had been trying like crazy to get him to cut down on all the caffeine, but she made a hasty decision that right now probably wasn't a good time to call him on it - or worry about it, for that matter.

"I don't like the sound of that," Jennifer stated, as a chill went through her. "You both look a little too concerned about something. Something I have a feeling I'm not going to like, right?" She looked over at both of them pointedly as she waited for an explanation.

Carl returned her stare grimly. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." He looked around at the fairly crowded diner before adding regretfully, "Unfortunately, I don't think this is the right place to discuss it, though. Did I hear you say, by the way, that Justin and Brian are due back in Pittsburgh tomorrow?"

Jennifer looked at him tensely. "Yes…..why?"

Carl hesitated briefly before revealing, "This……involves them, I'm afraid."

Debbie held her breath as the implication settled like a hard mass in Jennifer's stomach and she put two and two together. "Oh, God," she said. "This has to do with that _man_, doesn't it?" She asked Carl, the worry evident in her drawn face. "He didn't escape from prison or something, did he?" she asked urgently.

"No," Carl quickly assured her, as the woman breathed a sigh of relief. "He's not going anywhere, believe me. In fact, after this latest _stunt_ he pulled, I think I can promise you that he will never see fresh air again. The only way he'll get out of that prison is in a pine box."

Jennifer frowned, puzzled. "Well, then…..what? What has this man done _now_?" After everything that her son and Brian had been through the last several months, she had hoped that the man's name would never have to cross her mind again.

"I'm sorry, Jennifer," Carl stated, politely but firmly. "Like I said – this is NOT the place to discuss this. What time are the boys due back tomorrow?"

The elegant woman was really getting concerned now, but answered him anyway, hesitantly. "They – their plane is due to arrive at the airport around 2:00 p.m.....I'm picking them up."

Carl noticed now that both women were mirroring the same look – both concerned and upset over what was going on regarding two men they both loved and had come to think of as their sons. "Okay. Then will you ask them to come down to the police station tomorrow….say about 4:00? I really don't think this can wait until later." He hesitated briefly. He really wished he could divulge what was going on, but he felt it was only fair that Brian and Justin were told first. "It's very important," he just said simply.

"Can we come with them?" Jennifer asked him hopefully.

Carl sighed; he knew this would affect these women as well as the two boys. But he decided that Brian and Justin had the ultimate choice over how much to tell them. "No…..I'm sorry. I need to meet with them alone first. Then, at some point in time, if they want to discuss what is going on with anyone else, that will be up to them. Will you please pass along that message to them?" He looked apologetically at both women; he knew Debbie would be dying of curiosity later but he also knew that she realized he would not be able to fill her in on what was going on, at least not yet; she probably already knew too much as it was.

Jennifer pursed her lips – she was dying to know what was so important that it couldn't wait barely two hours after her son and Brian returned home. Finally, she advised him, "Okay. I'll tell them."

Carl nodded at both ladies before gulping down the remainder of his coffee and leaning over to give Debbie a brief kiss. "I'll see you at home later, honey," he told her. Debbie twisted her mouth in resignation. "Okay – don't be late! I'm fixing lasagna tonight, she advised him sternly, wagging a red-lacquered finger at him.

"Yes, Ma'am," he dutifully responded with a small smile before he turned and left the diner.

Both women looked at each other simultaneously. "Why do I think there's big trouble brewing somehow?" Jennifer asked her, worry written plainly on her face. "I thought this was all behind them. What could possibly be going on NOW?"

Debbie placed a hand on her shoulder. "Jen…I think by now we know that when it comes to that fucker that stalked Justin, it just may NEVER be over."

"I hope you're wrong, Debbie…..God, I hope you're wrong."


	45. Chapter 45: Home With New Revelations

_The Next Day – Pittsburgh International Airport – 2:00 p.m._

Jennifer anxiously sat on the hard, plastic airport lobby chair, waiting for her son and Brian's arrival. Her encounter with Carl yesterday at the diner was weighing heavily on her mind. No matter how hard she searched her brain, she couldn't for the life of her figure out what that man had done now. After all, he was in _prison_. What could have been so critically important that Carl needed to see the two men shortly after they landed? She sighed – would this whole terrible episode in her son's life _ever_ be over? She glanced for the fourth time at the "Arrivals" board to confirm their plane was still on time; as she observed that it was, she didn't know whether to be glad for that fact or not.

"Mom!" She looked over at the security exit just then to see her son and Brian rushing toward her, Justin excitedly tugging Brian by the hand, who graciously allowed the younger man to pull him. She noticed how happy her son looked, and despite Brian's rather nonchalant expression, she suspected he was just as happy, too. She stood up with a large smile on her face as she met her son halfway with a strong embrace, instantly wrapping her hands around the slender back and giving him an affectionate squeeze.

"Sweetheart – it's SO good to see you!" she gushed, as she reached up to give him a small kiss on the cheek. He was positively beaming with contentment and his eyes were shining. She was so heartened to see how calm and relaxed he seemed. Even Brian, who she noticed had gotten a flattering tan during their trip, looked well-rested. She didn't miss the unmistakable look of love that was conveyed as the brunet glanced over at his partner, his eyes softening with tenderness. She was so thankful the two of them had each other for support – something told her that in all likelihood they would need that bond to hold onto this afternoon.

"Hey, Jennifer," Brian greeted her with a smile; he bent down to reciprocate Jennifer's greeting to Justin as he loosely grasped her shoulders to give her a quick peck on the cheek before releasing his hold on her.

"Brian," she responded warmly. Over the years, she had come to regard Brian fondly; he had been so supportive of her son, especially during the past year with his terrible experience regarding Prescott.

"I guess I don't have to ask how your trip was," she said as she studied both men. She noticed Justin actually blushed a little for some reason; no doubt his partner had kept him quite _occupied_ during their trip. She knew if Brian Kinney was one thing when it came to her son, it was _insatiable_. Even after all these years, he couldn't seem to get enough of her son, which was fine by her, because she knew the feeling was definitely mutual as far as Justin was concerned.

"It was _great_, Mom!" Justin verified enthusiastically, as all three began walking toward the airport tram. "The weather was wonderful and the place Brian picked out for us to stay in – it was _unbelievable!_ Wait until you see the pictures I took – you won't believe it! It was up on a cliff overlooking the Aegean Sea with this spectacular view of the ocean! We went scuba diving, sailing, not to mention the cruise we took to Delos……"

Justin excitedly continued to regale his mom with all the details of their trip as they rode on the train to the baggage claim area, barely stopping to come up for air.

"Breathe, Justin," Brian kidded him, as his husband finally had to stop briefly to take a breath. "Give the other passengers a break here," he commanded tongue-in-cheek as the train slowed to a stop at their destination and they stepped out. Justin stuck out his tongue maturely as Jennifer laughed at their good-natured bantering.

"Why don't you and Brian come over for dinner tomorrow night?" she suggested. "You can bring your pictures with you and tell me all about your adventures then," she declared with a smile as she placed an arm around her son's shoulders while they walked.

"Better be careful what you wish for," Brian growled. "It will make Mikey's slide show he gave us on Paris look amateurish by comparison. Ow!" he complained, as Justin gave him a sharp nudge in his side.

Jennifer laughed as they reached the baggage claim area. She would never get tired of seeing her son and his partner so happy; they both deserved it after what they had been through this past year. She tried, instead, to push her concern over their pending meeting with Carl to the back of her mind and concentrate on how content they both seemed at the moment.

As they waited for their luggage to arrive, Jennifer turned to her son to note, "You haven't said much about Vermont. You told me the two of you stopped there the first night before flying to Greece. How was it?" She asked.

She noticed a conspiratorial look pass between the two men. "What?" she asked, somewhat puzzled. Concerned, she pressed, "Did something happen there?" She relaxed somewhat, though, as she noticed a mutual, tender smile appear on both their faces.

At Justin's unspoken question to him, Brian nodded slightly; they had discussed this eventuality on the way home and decided to let Jennifer know first. "_Something_ happened there, all right," Justin confirmed, now smiling openly. She was about to push him to explain what he meant just before he noticed one of their suitcases coming toward them; when he reached out his left hand to grasp the handle and pull it off the carousel, she suddenly didn't need an explanation.

She gasped as she saw the gleaming band of platinum and silver on her son's hand. "Oh, my God!" she cried, tears springing to her eyes. "You _didn't_!" she cried.

Brian cringed a little at Jennifer's over-the-top display of emotion; he noticed nearby airline passengers looking over inquisitively at the sound of her boisterous display of emotion. He supposed this was going to the norm, however, until the rest of their friends found out about their wedding. He didn't want to even _think_ about Debbie's reaction – he made a silent pact to make sure when they told her, it wasn't in a public place if at all possible.

Justin smiled even more broadly as he reached over to grab Brian's left hand and hold it up with his. "We did," he announced gleefully, waving their linked hands together as Brian smirked.

"Oh, _Honey_!" she cried, throwing herself again into his arms to bestow a fierce hug upon him. "I'm SO happy for _both _of you!" As she released her son, she repeated the same action with Brian, who somewhat reluctantly allowed her to hug him firmly before he politely disengaged himself.

As the brunet reached over and grabbed their final suitcase, Jennifer crooked her arm through her son's and leaned into him as they walked from the baggage claim area toward the exit doors. "Details," she said excitedly. "I want _all_ the details." Brian shook his head in amusement as mother and son walked in front of him, his presence temporarily forgotten as they immersed themselves in their conversation.

"Mom," he heard Justin murmur, a little embarrassed. "I can't tell you _everything_," he advised her, causing Brian to smile. No matter how much Jennifer thought she knew about them and their _u__nconventional_, extremely active sex life, if she knew ALL the details, she would definitely be blushing as red as a beet. Best that Justin wisely decided not to tell her all of it, then.

"Well, I _know_ what we'll do," Jennifer animatedly told her son as they reached her sedan. "We'll turn your dinner tomorrow evening into a celebration! Would that be all right?" she asked both of them, directing her glance mainly at Brian, however. She knew Justin would in all likelihood have no objection to it, but she knew how Brian could be when he came to overt displays of emotion. This would probably wind up being the be-all and end-all example of that.

Brian noticed BOTH Taylors looking at him expectantly; even if he didn't already know, anyone could tell they were mother and son by the identical hopeful expressions on their faces. Sighing and knowing when he was outnumbered, he curled his lips under briefly and reluctantly answered, growling, "What the hell – they have to find out _sometime_," before Justin launched himself exuberantly into his husband's arms, wrapping his slender arms around the other man's neck and showering him with light kisses.

As Brian reciprocated by enveloping the blond in his arms as well, Jennifer's heart soared at the obvious love the two men shared. And the fact that the two had _finally_ gotten married was the icing on the cake. She tried to forget for the time being that she needed to tell them about Carl's request for a meeting; they looked so happy, she hated to even broach the subject. But she knew she was going to have to tell them; she only hoped whatever it turned out to be, they could deal with it quickly and move on to more joyful events.

As the three of them settled into Jennifer's car, with the two men in the back seat, she sat behind the steering wheel for a few seconds, not making any move to start the car. The two newlyweds were so engrossed in staring at each other and leaning in for a kiss that they didn't notice at first they weren't going anywhere. Finally, after they broke apart, Justin turned to look at his mom's face staring back at him in the rearview mirror – a face that had changed from happy to concerned for some reason. "Mom?" he asked her. "What is it?" He knew it couldn't possibly have anything to do with his and Brian's marriage – he was certain that nothing would have made her any happier than to finally see the two of them wed.

She bit her lip a little and cursed inwardly; she had promised to do her best NOT to get the two men upset over her news, but she should have known her son would see right through her anyway. She never was good at hiding her feelings from him.

"Mom?" Justin repeated, as Brian now turned toward her as well. Sighing a little, she finally turned around enough to face them in the back of the car. "There's something I need to tell you," she said softly. "I have a message from Carl."

"Carl Horvath?" Justin asked with a hint of trepidation, even though he realized that was the only _Carl_ he knew.

"Yes," she verified. "He…..needs to see the two of you later today down at the police station. He asked if you could meet him there around 4:00."

Brian and Justin exchanged surprised looks. "Did he say what he wanted with us, Jennifer?" the brunet asked.

"No……..Not really."

"Mom……." Justin could tell she wasn't quite telling them the whole story.

She pressed her lips together a little and sighed. She finally told him quietly, "The only thing he told me was that it was......about _him_." She hated that man with a passion and didn't want to give him the respect of saying his name out loud; besides, she could think of a lot MORE descriptive names to call the man who had tormented her son for the last several months.

Brian, however, had no such reservations. "That fucker? Prescott?" he growled, as Justin closed his eyes in pain, the vision of his pursuer instantly ingrained in his head. He had actually been able to keep Prescott out of his thoughts and dreams during the past three weeks while he and Brian had been away; now, just the mention of the man's name brought it crashing back to him in a heartbeat.

"Yes," Jennifer confirmed, as she reacted sorrowfully to her son's troubled look. "I'm sorry, Honey," she said to her son sympathetically. "I know you two just got back, and I hated like hell to have to give you his message, but he said it couldn't wait and I promised I would. He wants to see the two of you privately."

Justin let out a nervous breath, as Brian reached over to take his hand in his. "Now let's not jump to conclusions, Sunshine," he said evenly. "We don't even know what he wants – it could just be some type of technicality or something as mundane as unfinished paperwork. It's not worth getting all fucking hot and bothered about it. Okay?" he tried to place a reassuring smile on his lips as Justin looked at him doubtfully; he could tell by the look on his husband's face that he wasn't quite buying it.

"At any rate, we won't know until we meet with him," Brian added sensibly, giving Justin's hand a gentle squeeze of comfort before releasing it. "Mother Taylor, why don't you take us back to our loft like we had planned and we'll drive ourselves on down to the station? That makes more sense, anyway, since it's in that direction."

She looked over at Justin to gauge his reaction. He shook his head slightly, as if he was having difficulty believing they were having to deal with his antagonist once again. "That's fine," he told his mother. "Let's just get it over with." _Whatever IT is, _he thought with dread. _And to think I thought this man was harmless._

As Jennifer started the car and drove toward the parking lot exit, Brian glanced over at his husband, the worry clearing showing on his face. What should have been a happy occasion and a cause for celebration among their family and friends had abruptly been marred by this unexpected turn of events. _Well, you fucker – I got news for you: you are NOT going to spoil this for us._ He reached over with his arm to wrap it protectively around Justin's slender shoulders, pulling the other man toward him as he did so. Justin did not object; in fact, he immediately curled up against him, resting his head on Brian's chest and letting out a soft sigh. He placed his smaller hand directly over the brunet's heart, which at the moment was aching; Brian never could bear to see the man he loved so deeply in emotional pain, and could tell that Justin was extremely concerned about what Carl's meeting would disclose. He leaned over to brush a tender kiss on top of the soft, blond head and whispered, "Whatever it is, Sunshine, we'll get through it _together_ – I promise," he vowed firmly. J ustin's only response was to snuggle even more deeply into the other man's side and move his free hand down until he was tightly grasping Brian's.

Jennifer glanced back in her mirror, observing the two men surreptitiously. She smiled softly, despite her great apprehension over what Carl needed to speak to them about. Her son and Brian were quietly cocooned closely together in the back seat, their heads touching and their hands clasped together. They were so in love, and the great Brian Kinney's heart had obviously been captured firmly by her son. But her son's heart was just as much a captive to the other man's. If anything could get them through whatever Carl had to tell them, it was their enduring love for each other.

The ride back to the loft was a fairly uneventful one; the time difference and long flight home from Greece had apparently taken its toll on both of the men. After a few minutes, Justin closed his eyes and appeared to have fallen asleep against Brian's chest. Brian, too, closed his eyes but remained awake, his thumb absently caressing Justin's shoulder from time to time reassuringly. He kept the rest of his body still until Jennifer finally slowed down in front of their loft and came to a stop.

"Justin?" Brian whispered, giving the other man's shoulder a slight squeeze. "We're home, Sunshine," he announced quietly, as the blond's eyelids slowly fluttered open. He was disoriented for a few seconds before he slowly raised his head and sat upright in the car, realizing they were back in Lawrenceville. The two men opened the back doors and stepped out into the bright sunshine; the early spring day back in the States was supposed to be an unusually warm one today.

As Jennifer popped the trunk open so they could retrieve their luggage, she stepped out briefly to join them. "Is dinner still on for tomorrow?" she asked them uncertainly. She felt it was important to invite their closest friends over, along with Justin's sister, to share in their celebration, but only if they were up to it. "Maybe you would like to wait until…..?" She left the question unsaid.

"No," Brian informed her firmly without hesitation. He was NOT going to let Prescott spoil their happiness; it didn't matter WHAT Carl had to tell them. He was NOT going to let that son of a bitch spoil what he and Justin had built so hard to achieve. He looked over at Justin for confirmation. "We'll be there, Jennifer," answering for both of them. "We have a LOT to be grateful for." Justin slowly smiled and nodded in agreement. "It's still on, Mom. No matter what. I think it's time we shared some _good_ news for a change."

Jennifer placed a kiss on both of her "boys," and smiled. "I couldn't agree more," she stated. She knew she would be dying of curiosity to find out what Carl had to tell them – and so would Debbie, no doubt – but she was confident they would tell her in due time, and when they felt ready. For now, she would concentrate on calling all of the two men's closest friends to share in their happiness, Prescott be damned.

"Well," she said in dismissal. "I've got a dinner party to organize, so I'd better get busy. How does 7:00 sound? That will give you two some time to rest up before the big announcement tomorrow. You know once Debbie finds out your wonderful news in particular, they'll be no stopping her."

"Yeah, we won't need any fucking wedding announcement in the local paper – we'll just tell our own private Barbara Walters – it'll be around the Pitts in 24 hours flat," Brian joked.

Justin grinned. "Yeah, cheaper and quicker," he agreed. "But just think of all those tricks whose hearts are about to be broken."

"I got news for you, Kiddo," Jennifer remarked to her son. "Those tricks were out of luck a _LONG_ time ago," she commented knowingly. She noticed that Brian smirked a little in response, but he did not make any move to contradict her statement. She gave both men a small wave before walking back to re-enter the car and drive away.

The two newlyweds were finally alone once again. Justin sighed, trying unsuccessfully to avoid thinking about their impending meeting with Carl at the police station.

"I can hear the thought wheels turning, Sunshine," Brian gently chided him, as he picked up their two pieces of luggage from the sidewalk. "Don't dwell on it – let's take the luggage inside and sit down for a few minutes." Glancing down at his watch, he added, leering, "If your perky little ass can pick up the pace a little, we've even got time for a quick fuck in the shower."

"Brian," Justin murmured, his eyes peering up at his husband lovingly. "You are such a slut for my body," he teased as they reached the loft entrance door.

"You bet your _ASS_, Sunshine," he retorted. "And your cock, and your cute little button nose, and your chest, and….."

"I get it, I get it," Justin laughed, as he playfully punched the other man in his side; Brian doubled over as if he were severely injured in response. It felt good to laugh, and he had the other man to thank for that. Somehow he knew that no matter what Carl would divulge to them, there wasn't _anything_ they couldn't overcome as long as they were together – they were fucking _unstoppable_.

As they opened the door to their loft and placed the bags inside the foyer, Justin tugged on the other man's arm urgently. "Well, come on, _Mr. Kinney_, I'll race you to the shower," he purred, as he took off in a dead run up the spiral staircase, the other man close on his heels.


	46. Chapter 46: Triumph

_4:00 p.m. – __Downtown Pittsburgh Police Precinct_

Justin shivered a little as he and Brian entered the police building, remembering the last occasion they had needed to be there. It was right after Prescott had been arrested for Justin's drugging and kidnapping, and he had been called upon to positively identify the man in a line-up. _What a joke that was…_it wasn't as if Brian and half of Pittsburgh couldn't have pointed him out by then. But they had needed _him_, as the victim, to verify that Lane had been the one to place his life in jeopardy.

Now it was ironic that they were back where it had all started. They still had no real idea what Carl wanted, but they knew it had to do with Lane _again_.

"Hey," Brian whispered, distracting Justin from his dark thoughts. "You okay?" he asked him, concerned. The other man's reaction to being back in the police station and having to deal once again with his perpetrator had not gone unnoticed by the brunet.

Justin took a steadying breath and smiled a little, more for Brian than himself. "Yeah," he answered softly. Brian stared back at him suspiciously; the brunet was obviously _not_ buying it. "Well, maybe not totally," he admitted.

Brian reached over to take the other man's hand gently, nodding; he didn't care whether he received any nasty glares as a result or not. "Just breathe," he admonished him tenderly. "Remember the asshole is in _jail_ – for a long, long, time. He can't hurt us anymore." He briefly squeezed Justin's hand before letting it go. "Let's go find Carl and get this with over with, okay?"

"Okay," the blond agreed. "Just…..don't go anywhere."

"I'm right here, Justin, and I have NO intention of going anywhere else……_ever_." Justin's eyes teared up slightly; he knew what Brian meant. They were not just in this together; from this point onward their lives were completely intertwined, which was just fine with him.

Justin DID give Brian a genuine smile now of love as well as gratitude for the countless ways this man had stood by him over the past 18 months. His husband's support had only served to deepen their love and commitment to each other. _How far they had come since that day at the auction – it seemed like another lifetime ago. _He never wanted to ever go back there, either. He only wanted to move forward – with Brian.

"Justin, Brian – welcome back," Carl greeted them as he stuck his head out the office door and noticed them standing nearby. "I see Jennifer gave you my message. Come on in," he instructed them as he held his office door open.

Somewhat skittishly, Justin followed Brian toward the door. As they both entered Carl's office, they were surprised to see they weren't the only ones in attendance.

"Greg," Brian acknowledged the prosecutor, who was seated in one of the empty chairs surrounding Carl's massive oak desk.

"Hey, Brian, Justin. You look great," he commented, noticing Brian's tan and Justin's sun-kissed look. He also observed that both of them seem much more well-rested than the last time he had encountered them, right after the trial had concluded. He only wished he had more pleasant business to conduct with them.

"Thanks," Brian responded a little hesitantly as he and Justin both shook hands with the attorney. Now that he knew both Carl _and_ Greg were there, Brian had no doubt it had to do with Prescott, and he had a feeling it probably wasn't good, either. He glanced over at Justin, whose face had gone pale in apprehension. Apparently Justin had come to the same conclusion as well.

"Have a seat, gentlemen," Carl requested, as they both complied. "Debbie will be awfully glad to see her two favorite boys back in town…..after Michael and Ben, that is," he joked slightly, trying to ease the sudden tension that was now pervading the room.

Justin sighed nervously, rubbing his fingers together in his lap. "I appreciate your attempt at levity, Carl, but why don't we just cut to the chase here?" Brian remarked flatly. "Jennifer already told us this has to do with that fucker Prescott. Why don't you just tell us why we were called down here so soon after we got home? Something tells me you – and Greg – wouldn't do that for something minor."

Carl nodded and his face abruptly turned serious as he glanced at Greg. "Why don't you fill them in?" he asked the prosecutor. "It's pretty much going to be your baby, anyway."

Greg turned to the two of them before he began speaking in a calm voice. "Shortly after the two of you left, I got a visit from our buddy, Mr. Kingsley. I'm sure you both remember him?"

"Vividly," Brian retorted. "He was one of Prescott's robot _yes, sir boys_ who I'm sure was taking the fall for Prescott and his involvement with the security detail being cancelled, among other things, no doubt."

"You're right," Greg informed them. "Kingsley not only admitted to it, he also told me that he was responsible for all the deliveries that were made to Justin at the loft and the diner. He also admitted to carrying out the wiretapping on your landline phone to obtain the cancellation code for the security detail. It was all done at the specific direction of Prescott."

"I knew it," Brian snapped. "I knew he was just a stoolie for that fucker."

Justin closed his eyes as the two men bantered back and forth about Prescott; at the moment, he wished somehow they could just forget all about him. "I don't understand, Greg," he joined in as the two other men glanced at him. "Kingsley's already been tried and convicted of the wiretapping. It's too late to charge Prescott now. Why are we rehashing this again? And why is Kingsley admitting that Lane orchestrated the whole thing _now_? What's the purpose? Why didn't he admit it before he was sentenced? It won't do him any good now, will it?"

Brian admitted Justin had a point. "He's right – why is this all coming up _now?_" He noticed Carl and Greg sharing a look of – what? Concern? Hesitation? Dread? He wasn't quite sure, but he found out he didn't have long to wait for the answer.

"That was before Prescott practically ordered Kingsley to come visit him at the prison a few weeks ago – just after the two of you left for your vacation," he advised them.

"In prison?" Justin asked. "Why?"

Again a certain pointed look passed between the policeman and the prosecutor. Greg inhaled a breath and released it quietly. "Because he had one last assignment for his old private detective – one that involved Lane's brother, also."

"Brother? That son of a bitch has a _brother_?" Brian was surprised; he had never heard that Prescott had any siblings at any time during the trial, not that it would necessarily have come up during anyone's testimony.

Justin searched his memory. "Yeah," he finally murmured. "I remember Lane telling me once that he did have a brother…….a _twin_ brother, as a matter of fact. If I recall correctly, he told me his brother – whose name I've forgotten now – was involved in some minor capacity at the company he inherited from his father."

"You're right, Justin – his name is Aiden, and he's the _spitting image_ of his brother," he verified, as Brian looked over at him, astounded. The idea of two of those assholes looking identical was almost too much to take. "And when Lane Prescott was sentenced to prison, the brothe took over as the new CEO."

"Well, if the other guy looks that much like him, I only hope he turned out to be an actual _human being_, as opposed to the scum his brother is," Brian commented.

"I wish we could tell you that's correct," Greg continued. "But I'm afraid they were cut out of the same cloth, after all."

Justin was quickly growing weary of this back and forth vacillating. "Greg, just _TELL_ us what the fuck is going on," he growled. "I am so TIRED of hearing that man's name. I don't want to _ever_ have to think about him again. He has disrupted our lives _enough_ already."

Greg nodded. "I know, my friend, I know," he agreed. "And I hate like hell to tell the two of you this, but he wasn't finished when he went to prison. It seems that he needed Kingsley to meet him in the visitor's room at the prison because he had one more assignment for him to carry out – finding someone to take care of his attorney and Brian."

Justin's mouth gaped open as he stared back at Greg dumbfounded. "_Take…….CARE OF?_" Justin finally managed to stammer. "You….you aren't saying what I _think_ you're saying……are you?" he whispered in horror. "You're not serious?"

Even the normally unflappable Brian Kinney was in shock, unable to digest what the prosecutor had just said. The man _had_ to be kidding……only this was not something he thought the prosecutor would joke about. And by the look on both Carl and Greg's faces, he knew instinctively that the man was _deadly_ serious.

"I wish I could tell you I'm not, but it's exactly what you think. The man wanted both Sinclair and Brian dead……..and was willing to pay quite handsomely for it, I might add. Especially for you, Brian," he added.

Brian snorted. "How much?" he couldn't help asking the prosecutor.

"A hundred thousand dollars," he advised the brunet, as he heard Justin gasp.

"Well, I'm flattered," Brian cracked. "I didn't know I was worth so much dead. Theodore, though, tells me I'm actually worth much more _alive_."

"Brian…..this isn't _FUNNY_, damn it!" Justin exploded in fear and revulsion. "He wanted you DEAD!" he cried, as he rose from his chair to start pacing around the room, a bundle of raw nerves which were coming perilously to a breaking point.

"Justin," Brian quietly called to him authoritatively in an attempt to calm his husband. "I know. But the man's in _jail_…..and Kingsley came to Greg with the information. So it's over – end of story – right?" he asked the two men as Justin peered over at them hopefully, waiting anxiously for an answer.

"Justin…..Sit down, please," Greg asked the younger man. "There's actually more….._but_ I think you'll find it enlightening when I get done," he reassured Justin as he noticed the blond starting to become even more agitated. "_AND_ I think you'll also find that it's going to have a satisfactory ending – the ending we all wanted when this first began. Please," he beseeched the other man, holding out his hand in a silent invitation.

"Come on, Sunshine," Brian pleaded gently as he patted the seat next to him. Justin sighed then and finally walked back over to his chair and sat down on the edge of his seat.

"I offered Kingsley and his attorney a deal. He will be granted immunity – hear me out," he beseeched the other men, who he could tell were about to protest vehemently. "He will be granted immunity from further prosecution as long as he testifies against Prescott's scheme to hire a hit man for Brian and Sinclair. AND we have video proof that he did indeed visit Prescott at the prison on the day and time he maintained he did."

"That's it?" Brian responded cynically. "A _video? _You _KNOW_ this asshole; that won't fucking hold water. The man's slicker than butter. What good will the video do? For all we know they could have been talking about _Girl Scout cookies_. That fucking doesn't prove a thing," he maintained, as Justin nodded silently in agreement.

"I agree totally," Greg responded promptly. "And I would be worried if that was all we had, too. But there's more. That's where Prescott's brother comes in," he informed them.

"Yeah, Kingsley turned in an Oscar-winning performance," Carl agreed.

Justin's head was swimming. He was trying furiously to make sense of what the two men were saying, but it just wasn't meshing together. "What……are you _talking_ about?" he demanded. "Please quit talking in fucking circles and just TELL US what the hell is going on!"

"Kingsley's deal was predicated on more than just the video proof and him testifying against Prescott," Greg informed them. "He also had to agree to meet with Prescott's brother, Aiden, who was the banker, so to speak, for the hit man. Prescott had instructed Kingsley to meet with his brother who was going to payroll the arrangement. That's where Carl came in," he said, nodding to the other man to continue the narrative.

"Greg asked me to set up Kingsley with a state-of-the-art camera and microphone – kind of ironic, isn't it?" he commented. "Greg and I were a little worried that Kingsley wouldn't be able to carry it out," he told the two men truthfully. "But the man also knew his freedom was contingent upon it, as well as his very life. The son of a birth was running scared, that's for sure."

He continued, "The man actually surprised us. He met with Prescott's brother at a hotel downtown, and we got it all down in living color. The sound and video are clear as a bell."

"Un-fucking-believable," Brian muttered. "TWO of those fuckers running around. Proves that psychopaths definitely run in the family."

A sudden fear gripped Justin, however. "You ARE saying, I hope, that you have enough to put both men away forever? Both Prescott brothers?" he asked tensely.

"Yes and no," Greg said somewhat vaguely.

"What does _that_ mean?" Brian demanded. If there was any possibility that either Prescott could get out of jail in the near future and come anywhere near Justin, they would be a _dead man. _

"Calm down, Brian," Carl warned him. "Listen to the man. It's going to be okay," he assured both men.

Brian huffed. "I'll be the judge of that, Carl. Just fucking tell us what's going on."

Greg nodded. "It took a little _arm-twisting_, shall we say. I wish you could have been there, by the way, when Prescott's brother was arrested at the corporate headquarters – he was not a happy camper," he chuckled. "Made quite a spectacle of himself. Kept saying the cuffs were chafing his wrists, and hollering for his attorney. Once we got him back to the office, though, and he found out we had everything down on tape and audio, he was singing a different tune. We offered him a reduced sentence – a minimum of 25 years, that is," he hastily reassured the two men, "in return for his testimony against his brother. We quickly found out blood isn't thicker than water when it comes to your own hide. With both Kingsley's and Aiden Prescott's testimony, Lane Prescott will never see any light outside a prison cell again."

Brian sat there stunned into silence. A myriad of emotions tumbled through his head at the moment: initially shock, anger, and disgust, but these were quickly replaced by triumph, vindication and jubilation.

Brian looked over at Justin, briefly worried about his husband's reaction to this last, tumultuous episode in the Prescott saga. His concern over his lover's reaction, though, was washed away by the smile he found on Justin's face, his eyes glistening with tears. Tears of relief and joy this time, though.

"Is it finally over?" he softly asked the brunet.

"Yeah, Sunshine," he answered tenderly, with not a touch of hesitation in his eyes. "It is."

* * *

**_TBC.....AT LEAST ONE MORE CHAPTER....._**


	47. Chapter 47: Conclusion: Peace at Last!

**_A/N: Here is the conclusion to Secret Admirer - I want to thank everyone who has been such a dedicated reader of this fic and especially those who took the time to so faithfully review it. Thank you for your continuing support - that is what keeps me going!! _**

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_Jennifer's Condo Complex – Clubhouse - Next Day - Early Evening_

Emmett clapped his hands urgently for attention as he scurried around the room, dodging tables, chairs, and the numerous people mingling around the large space. "Hello…….Listen up, everybody! Our two boys should be here soon…..chop, chop! Let's get those dishes out on the long table over there," he called out to the wait staff. Turning to his boyfriend, he asked him, "Cal, come and help me out over here with the cake!" Em's nerves were always on edge just before each catering event, but this one was special. Everybody but him and Jennifer thought the party tonight was simply a "Welcome Home" event for Justin and Brian's return from Greece; what everyone else _didn't_ know, however, was that it was also a post-wedding reception.

Jennifer had called him last night with an urgent plea for help in planning an unforgettable celebration for her son and dare he say it? His _husband - Brian_. After getting over his initial shock, he found he wasn't actually that surprised – he had come to realize that Brian really did love Justin deeply; it was obvious by the way he had steadfastly stayed by the blond's side during the whole ordeal with Prescott. But he was still stunned to find out that they had actually, _finally_ gotten married in Vermont. Even now, his eyes filled with tears of joy for Justin. _You did it, Baby – way to go._

Em surveyed the room to make sure everything was ready for the celebration. In keeping with Brian and Justin's adventure, Em had decided to go with an ancient Greek theme for the party. He had decked out the waiters in togas and laurel wreaths, and was serving a variety of Greek wines. In the background there was traditional bouzouki music playing, and the room was decorated simply in tones of blue and white. He had hastily researched authentic Greek food and customs, and had settled on serving an appetizer buffet first of Feta and kasseri cheese, cucumber slices, tomato wedges, Calamata and black olives, Salonika peppers, artichoke hearts marinated in lemon and oil, and stuffed grape leaves. For the main courses, he had stayed up most of the night preparing the lamb, beef, and seafood entrees with a medley of vegetables marinated in lemon and olive oil. Finally, in keeping with Greek custom, for desert he would be serving a buffet of various nuts and fresh fruits, in addition to baklava.

He had wanted so badly to decorate a cake with a wedding theme, complete with a "_his and his"_ cake topper. But Jennifer had asked him to refrain from publicizing it and keep it a secret for now – it would be up to Brian and Justin to announce the happy news to the rest of the group after they arrived. That didn't mean, of course, that he couldn't have the cake ready _just in case_, he thought, smiling.

Jennifer stood at the back of the room conversing quietly with Debbie, trying mainly to stay out of the way of the preparations, but also eager to talk to her son about what had happened yesterday afternoon at the police station. She had spoken very briefly to Justin last night at the loft once they had returned, but except for assuring his mom that everything was all right, he had promised he would fill her in more fully at the dinner tonight. Both she and Debbie had been on pins and needles ever since; despite Debbie's best efforts to pry the information out of Carl, he had insisted on leaving that up to Justin and Brian.

Debbie chewed on a red-lacquered fingernail nervously as they waited for the guests of honor. "I don't _believe_ this!" she growled. "They _know_ how anxious we are to find out what happened yesterday, and they have the nerve to be running late for their own fucking party! I mean, it's not like they're making up for lost time – I'm sure they got plenty of _that_ while they were gone," she cracked.

Jennifer smiled a little bit out of embarrassment; no doubt Debbie was right about that. Despite the two of them being with each other for several years now, her son and Brian showed no signs of slowing down or becoming complacent in their relationship. Indeed, it seemed like whenever she saw the two of them together, they always had a constant need to _touch_. Whether it was kissing, holding hands, hugging, rubbing each other's backs, or sitting with shoulders hunched together, they always had to be touching each other. It was almost as if they both needed to be constantly reassured that they were, indeed, finally safe, as long as they were together. She had never seen anyone else who had the type of love she saw between Brian and her son. In a way, she envied the bond they shared with each other; she was so glad that her son had found the happiness he so badly deserved.

After peering out of the large, rear picture window overlooking the lake for several minutes, she was finally rewarded by the sight of her son and Brian walking, hand in hand, around the lake perimeter's stone walk toward the clubhouse; when she had talked to Justin last night she had told him about the change in location to accommodate everyone who wanted to welcome the two travelers home. The two wore identical, large smiles on their faces as they seemed to only have eyes for each other; Jennifer was delighted to see how happy and rested they looked.

"Here they come!" she cried excitedly, as Debbie hugged her in delight; the din in the room increased dramatically and everyone turned to see them coming up the walk toward the double, rear French doors. She could see Justin actually beaming now as he noticed everyone waiting for them, while Brian responded characteristically by rolling his eyes and smirking.

As the doors opened up, the entire room broke out into applause, shouts, and the occasional whistle as the crowd rushed forward to greet the couple. Justin smiled broadly as Brian placed his arm around his shoulders and good-naturedly tolerated the welcoming wishes of everyone in attendance. He was more than content to let his husband regale everyone with tales of their vacation as he quietly stood beside him and noticed Justin animatedly telling everyone about their vacation villa and exploits while on Mykonos. The blond's face was positively glowing at the moment; Brian's heart warmed as he thought he had never seen Justin quite so happy before, unless it was the night of their wedding.

As he recalled that night, he realized they still had one more piece of exciting news to tell everyone present, in addition to the revelation about Prescott and his cronies. Pouncing on a slight lull in the noisy, boisterous group surrounding his husband, he leaned down and whispered into Justin's ear. Justin nodded and politely excused himself from the mob surrounding them as Brian took his hand and, threading their way through the crowd, led him up toward the front of the room.

The two stood on a small, elevated stage at the front of the spacious area with Brian's arm once again around the smaller man's shoulders, as Brian grabbed a nearby wine glass and, using a cocktail fork, clanged on it until the almost deafening din in the room finally died down to more of a conversational volume. "Can I have everyone's attention?" he politely asked their friends and family; he briefly was startled as he noticed that even Lindsey and Mel were there along with Gus, who was perched on the blonde's shoulders. Brian allowed himself enough time to bestow a wide smile and wave on his son before he began to speak again.

As Justin looked over at him lovingly, he continued. "I want to thank everyone for coming here this evening to welcome us home from our trip," he began sincerely. Brian normally wasn't one to be open about his feelings, but thanks in large part to the wonderful man presently standing at his side, over the past few years he had become much more comfortable with the occasional, heartfelt speech. "Your presence here is important to both Justin and to me – for a number of reasons. First of all, I know all of you are curious as to what transpired yesterday afternoon with our meeting at the police station. Without going into all the details here, we are very pleased to tell you that after speaking with Carl and Greg, we CAN tell you that the man whose name will never grace my lips _ever_ again (there was a slight chuckle from several in attendance at _that_ statement) will NOT ever see the light of day outside his prison cell. We have been assured that he will be charged with additional crimes that will keep him in that fucking prison until he is well past life expectancy. The only fucking thing he'll be dressed in when he gets out of there is a _pine box_!" he growled, as the room erupted into jubilant applause. "Let's all make a toast to his future designer apparel," he mocked, as he and the rest of the room raised their wine glasses in an irreverent salute to the man who had tormented the man he loved for the last year and a half. Justin briefly closed his eyes as the relief washed over him before opening them to stare tenderly at Brian's soft, hazel ones. He nodded reassuringly and smiled at Brian after his husband squeezed the blond's shoulder in a silent question about how he was doing.

"Now on to more _pleasant _news," he announced, smiling widely now as his eyes sparkled and reflected off the soft lighting in the room. "I know everyone here tonight was invited to this party as a welcome home celebration for Justin and me," he commented. "And we are grateful to see so many of you here tonight, especially Justin, who will no doubt bore everyone to tears later with the _hundreds_ of photos he took while we on Mykonos, including the extremely exciting and artistic ones of Petrakus," he teased, receiving a quick jab in the side from the blond amid soft laughter. "_Petros_," Justin corrected him once again, smiling, receiving puzzled stares from the audience. "I'll explain later," he advised, grinning.

"Well, as I was saying," Brian continued. "We know Jennifer had invited all of you here tonight to welcome us home. But our vacation isn't the only event we wanted to celebrate with you." As he pulled Justin closer to his side with the arm he still had wrapped firmly around his shoulders, he glanced down tenderly at the younger man as both smiled broadly and he advised, "We also wanted all of you here tonight………..to celebrate our _marriage_." As the room let out a collective gasp, he took his left hand and raised Justin's with his own high into the air triumphantly, displaying their pair of identical wedding rings as proof that he had not, after all, lost his mind. The crowd exploded into a cacophony of whooping, clapping, and cheers as Brian finally leaned down and gave Justin a passionate, toe-curling kiss. The kiss did not last as long as the couple would have liked, however, because they were quickly surrounded by a myriad of well-wishers embracing and congratulating them.

"Oh, my God!" Debbie screamed, as she rushed toward the pair and scooped them both up into a bone-crushing bear hug. "I am so fucking _happy_ for both of you!" she cried, as she literally danced around them in glee. "Let me see!" she urged, as she pulled their hands toward her to take a closer look at the gleaming bands adorning their hands. She wiped a couple of joyful tears from her eyes as she exclaimed, "I can't believe it. It's about _fucking_ time!"

"Thanks, Deb," Justin responded, as he looked over at Brian, who was now surrounded by another band of well-wishers; the only way they could stay connected at the moment amongst the rush of partygoers was to keep their hands firmly gripping each other's. "I am _so_ grateful to Brian for everything he's done during the past several months," he told her honestly. "And I'm so relieved it's finally over, so we can get on with our lives."

"You know I'll want full details later about that, Sunshine," she growled, as Carl walked up to stand beside her.

"Carl," Justin acknowledged the man with a nod. "I'm glad you could make it. Where's Greg?" he asked the policeman. The prosecutor had worked so hard to insure that Prescott and his henchmen would be punished severely for their part in Justin's ordeal that he wanted the man to be there tonight to thank him for all he had done for them.

"He told me to give you his regrets," Carl told him apologetically. "He got delayed on a new case he's working on, and he said it would take him most of the evening, so he unfortunately couldn't attend. But if it's okay with you, I'll be seeing him tomorrow and I can give him the good news for you. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks, Carl," Justin said, smiling, as Brian was finally able to rejoin him. "And if you don't mind, I know a certain redhead who's dying to know what happened yesterday," he added, looking over at Debbie. "Can you fill her in for us? You know the details as well as WE do, anyhow. We owe you a big thanks, too, by the way, as well as Greg. Without your help, we never would have been able to finally get on with our lives without always looking behind our backs. That is such a big weight off of us."

"I think I can take care of that for you," Carl responded, as Debbie looked at him questioningly. "Later," he told her firmly but gently, receiving a somewhat frustrated expression from his girlfriend. "You'd better," she told him, waggling a red fingernail at the policeman as Debbie gave the two boys a kiss on the cheek before the couple strode off toward the appetizer buffet.

Several rounds of Greek dancing later and fully stuffed from the delicious food being served, the two men finally excused themselves from the crowded room while the attendees enjoyed their dessert. Justin located Emmett long enough to thank him profusely for the wonderful party before Brian opened the rear doors and pulled Justin gently outside; the sun was setting low over the horizon in a palette of pinks and purples. He pulled Justin into his arms, the other man's back against his chest, and wrapped his lean hands around the other man's slender waist. Placing his head to rest on top of the blond hair, he whispered, "Not as spectacular as the sunsets over the ocean at Mykonos, is it, Sunshine?"

Justin smiled as he snuggled more deeply into the other man's embrace. "No," he answered honestly. "But somehow it's better in a way. Because we're home with our friends and family, and we're _finally_ able to get on with our lives without worrying about what's going to happen next. I'm can look forward to what awaits us now."

Brian gently turned the other man around to face him and smiled at him tenderly, the love in his eyes reflecting back in the sapphire blue ones staring at him intently as Justin positively beamed. The brunet leaned down to give Justin a soft, heartfelt kiss before he pulled back far enough to whisper to the other man, "You think we'd be missed for a little while? I've heard the bathrooms here are really _roomy,_ and I'm feeling especially _horny_ all of a sudden. Must be that Greek wine and all those hot guys running around in those short little togas," he joked.

Justin grinned. "As long as we're back shortly. A certain party planner has informed me that we have to be present front and center in 30 minutes for the cutting of our wedding cake."

Brian groaned. _"Wedding cake?"_

Justin nodded. "You wouldn't want to disappoint Emmett now, would you?" he asked the other man innocently.

Brian growled, "Do you have any idea how many fucking _carbs_ there must be in a piece of wedding cake?"

Justin laughed. "So you only take a ceremonial bite of it," he advised the other man. "Unless you'd rather I do like the traditional brides and just smash it into your face instead."

He fiercely snarled, "You try that and you'll find some cake where the sun don't shine."

"Mmmm…..That has possibilities," Justin murmured, before he burst out laughing at Brian's horrified look. "Don't worry, _Mr. Kinney_, I'll make sure to keep your dignity intact, at least in public." He reached up on his tiptoes until his face was close to his husband's before growling softly, "Behind closed doors, though, you're all MINE........_sweet cheeks_."

Justin waited for the customary affronted snort he would have normally received from a statement like that, but Brian surprised the other man by actually smiling at the endearment. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Sunshine," he whispered gently as he nuzzled his forehead against the other man's. "I wouldn't have it any way."


End file.
